


Hopelessly In Love

by puffythepig



Series: All my bsmits works :0 [1]
Category: The Simpsons, simpsons
Genre: Bart/Milhouse ment, Fluff, Jessica/Lisa ment, Krustycandy ment - Freeform, Louie/Fat Tony ment, M/M, Marge/Homer ment - Freeform, Marge/Ruth ment, OC, WARNING--USES THE F SLUR!!, also a lil language, animal death ment, bsmits week, burnsmithers week, burnsmithers week 2017, burnsmithersweek, burnsmithersweek2017, bursnmithers, death ment, shauna/laura ment, t for slight sex mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-14 09:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10534002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puffythepig/pseuds/puffythepig
Summary: Howdy! It's Burnsmithers week on Tumblr so I knew I had to participate! I'm making all of my submissions tied together in one fanfic! I hope you enjoy!Burnsmithers week is being hosted by twixremix.tumblr.com





	1. Thanks to You

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: Smithers decides to confess his love for his boss with a love letter thanks to a mysterious advice blogger, but decides to take it back, only to find that Burns has already taken it. What chaos will ensue?

Smithers could still remember how it all started; a more tired version of himself longed for his Monty’s affection from the start, and nothing he did seemed to show that Monty reciprocated those feelings. Most of the time, he felt completely unwanted, but something kept him there; the thrill of the chase, he called it. Perhaps it was his own dependence on the other for social interaction, but he wasn’t sure. Either way, he needed help; it was time to let Monty Burns know how he felt.  
  
But the question as to how he would let his beloved know that he was his beloved still plagued his mind. How did you tell someone you loved for over 30 years that you loved them? Smithers had no idea, so he was seeking help. As he sat down across from Marge Simpson for brunch, he made the point in mind to ask her. She had a semi-successful relationship with her husband, and maybe she wasn’t the best person to ask for advice on confessing, but who else would he ask? Smithers didn’t have many friends, and the few he did weren’t very successful in their own relationships; Miss Pennycandy was still in the same boat as him, and she had come to him for advice earlier in the week. Of course, she had a bit more of a chance than himself, so he told her to just tell him, and he hadn’t heard any news since then.  
  
“So, Waylon, what was so urgent that you had to take work off to see me?” Marge asked, taking a long sip of her tea.  
  
“I need some advice.” He said bluntly, stirring at his own tea. He had only known Marge for so long, could he really ask her for such personal advice? He felt a bit silly suddenly, but her voice shook him out of his thoughts.  
  
“Of course! What’s on your mind?”  
  
A relaxed smile spread across Smithers’ face before he returned his thoughts to the subject at hand. “I was wondering...if someone wanted to confess their love to someone else, but they don’t want to risk losing what they have, how should they go about it?”  
  
Marge set her mug down and thought for a moment. “Well, you have to be delicate about it. And be sure to make it clear that if they aren’t interested in you, you still want to be friends.”  
  
Smithers laughed pitifully. “What if you can’t find the words?”  
  
Marge thought deeply again and couldn’t find an answer. Her love liked her first, after all, so this wasn’t a subject she was familiar with. “I’m…not sure. But I could help you find someone who could give you better answers than mine.”  
  
Nodding slowly, a genuine smile spread across Smithers’ cheeks. “That would be nice. Thanks, Marge.” She waved the words away and he leaned forward. “So, how have the kids been?”  
  
A worried look spread across Marge’s face as she told the tale of how Bart had been recently trying desperately to improve his grades, because he was scared that Milhouse would go to college and he wouldn’t be able to, and Lisa had been helping him study, but Bart was frustrated and yelled at her, and now they were refusing to talk. Homer, on the other hand, had been staying out bowling again, but he had been taking Maggie with him, which was a bit worrying at first, but Marge soon discovered that Lenny and Carl were babysitting her while Homer bowled, which she was alright with; it was good practice for the two, after all who were considering adopting a little kid themselves. Carl really wanted a little daughter to spoil, but Lenny kept saying he wanted a ‘Carl Junior,’ which was the only reason they were holding off at this point.  
  
Before long, the two ran out of tea and things to talk about, so they went their separate ways with the promise of meeting again next week for updates.  
  
When Smithers returned home for the night, he logged onto his computer and searched for advice. When all he was getting were ads and things he would have to pay for only to get the same chopped up advice, he decided to alter his settings and search for people in Springfield willing to give him advice.  
  
It didn’t take long to stumble across someone’s blog, and everything looked helpful. It seemed as if mainly middle schoolers and high schoolers were asking the so called ‘lgbtwhisperer626’ for help, but Smithers sent the user a message anyway, asking to meet with them for one-on-one advice. The quick reply of a ‘no’ surprised Smithers, but he pressured on, saying they didn’t have to meet, but he wanted actual advice. After a moment, he was told by the mystery user to explain his problem. After explaining his love for his boss, the user replied with the words: ‘write to him. If he doesn’t feel the same, say someone set you up. Have someone else write it, in fact, so it’s not in your handwriting, and if something goes wrong, you have a backup plan. Do not give it to him directly, though. Leave it on your desk, and the curiosity will drive him mad.’  
  
That was…actually helpful advice, and Smithers was pleasantly surprised. He thanked the person before signing off his laptop and deciding that was the plan. He called up Marge and explained what he was going to do, and she was delighted to the write the letter for him. Early in the morning, Homer popped into his office and dropped the letter off, and Smithers found himself grinning like an idiot for the rest of the day. That was, until the day had started to reach its end, and the sun was setting out of the massive window of Mr. Burns office. Suddenly, it seemed as if the world was very small, and there was no place to hide away from his problem; his problem, of course, was if Mr. Burns did take that letter and didn’t feel the same and didn’t believe his lies about it.  
  
Smithers hurried back to his office with the idea in mind, only to find the letter on his desk was missing, meaning whatever Mr. Burns initial reaction happened to be was the final answer. Nervously, Smithers peeked his head into Burns’ office, who was gathering some files together, with the usual grim, tired expression on his face that was there regularly this time of day. Perhaps he hadn’t read it yet? Smithers stepped into the room, expecting the worst, only not to be verbally lashed out at when Mr. Burns noticed him; instead, Mr. Burns simply looked up at him for just a moment before returning his tired eyes back to his papers. He clearly had not read it yet, Smithers decided, as he cleared his throat and spoke to his boss. “Are you ready to go home, Sir?”  
  
Burns hummed before mumbling out a reply. “Yes, I’m quite exhausted. I think I may go to bed early tonight.”  
  
Smithers grinned and nodded in response. “Of course. I’ll call the estate and have someone prepare your bedspread early tonight.”  
  
Burns thought for a moment before shaking his hand in the air, dismissing the thought. “No, they can’t do it right. I’ll just go to bed as usual if that’s what it takes to get my blankets dried how I like them.”  
  
Smithers hummed a little bit, pursuing his lips together. He knew that Burns only liked his covers and sheets dried a specific way that he assumed only Smithers knew of, but truth be told that Smithers didn’t have a special technique and didn’t do it any different than anyone else working at the estate would, but he knew Mr. Burns liked having things in a specific order throughout his day, which included Smithers specifically doing his bedspread laundry. “Alright, Sir.”  
  
Burns fumbled with the papers a bit and dropped one to the floor in front of his desk, his hands shaking a bit. Normally Smithers would rush forward and help, but he knew Burns liked his independence and was going to let him take care of it, when the old man grumbled out a reply. “Well, don’t just stand there.”  
  
With a quiet, “yes, Sir” Smithers approached the papers and picked them up, handing them across the desk with a grin. “What else do you want to take home tonight, Sir?” In his mind, only did Burns reply with ‘you’.  
  
Burns looked around the room in thought before clutching his papers to his chest. “I’ve got everything; now, let’s head home.”  
  
Smithers grinned and nodded, watching his boss make his way to the door, following him with a gleeful look on his face. All he had to do was sneak the letter out of his boss’ papers before he went to bed and he would be fine.  
  
Once they were home, Smithers headed to the kitchen to dish out his love’s dinner order for the night; Burns wanted lobster for dinner. When he came back into Burns’ lounging room, he found the old man was watching the fire in thought. Without another word, Smithers left the room and went to fetch Burns’ warm laundry, exchanging it for Bobo. Once Burns’ bed was ready, the sycophant traveled downstairs, only to see his beloved sleeping peacefully in his chair.  
  
Smithers leapt into action and took the chance to collect the letter to his boss that he was nearly positive was in his pile of papers he had carried home that now set on the table. After a moment of ruffling through the papers, he heard the familiar sounds of Burns waking up and turned around, the papers in his hands.  
  
“Why’re you holding my papers, Smithers?” Burns didn’t sound angry or accusatory, but tired and confused. He wiped an eye, yawning in silence.  
  
“I was going to put them up for you, Sir.” Smithers answered, tightening his grip on the papers a bit more.  
  
Burns yawned again, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand. “I’ll get them. Have you submitted my order?”  
  
Smithers set them down with a weight in the back of his head and a smile on his face. “Of course, Sir.”  
  
Burns stretched his arms and leaned against the back of the chair a bit. He looked ready to pass out again when Smithers stepped forward a bit, a hopeful idea in mind.  
  
“Sir, would you like to play chess?”  
  
The older man stared in thought before grinning widely, nearly shattering Smithers heart in the process. “That sounds nice. Let’s do that.”  
  
With a gleeful expression, Smithers hurried over to his boss, letting the older man lean against him for support as he walked him to his recreational room, setting his boss in one of the chairs before taking the seat across from him. Without announcing the start of the game, Burns reached forward and initiated it by moving one of his pieces.  
  
After an hour of chess that involved Burns teasing Smithers playfully each time he made a good move, one of the cooks entered the room and bowed before announcing that the lobster was fully prepared.  
  
With a broad, winning smile on his face, Burns made his way to the dining room, making sure to gloat to Smithers as he followed suite.  
  
Smithers smiled and chuckled along; he loved boosting his boss’ ego, and it made him feel like he was the one who was really winning. Of course, Smithers knew that if those thoughts slipped, it would make for an unhappy Burns and an embarrassing evening, so he kept his mouth zipped.  
  
After a few minutes of silent eating, Burns received the bright idea of flinging food at Smithers, like he did occasionally, which ended in both of them having a decent amount of buttery lobster-juice on them. Once they were done eating and causing havoc, Smithers stood up and went over to Burns, helping the older fellow to his feet and guiding him upstairs to his bedroom. After Burns was sitting on his bed, Smithers softly started to untangle Burns’ tie before the plutocrat of his affection stopped him with his hand and shook his head. “I’ll get dressed for bed myself, tonight. I still have enough energy to do that tonight.” Burns spoke gently, causing shudders to travel throughout the other’s heart.  
  
“Of course, Sir. I’ll go grab Bobo.”  
  
After Smithers held the tiny bear in his arms and he was outside of Burns’ bedroom door, he peeked in the room like he always did to gauge how loudly he could enter the room only to see his supervisor opening his love letter with gentle care. Gulping, Smithers watched the scene unfold; The rich man seemed put off by the letter and was ready to yank the cord above his bed that would cause Smithers watch to buzz and invite the working man back into his room, but he hesitated and set the letter down. After a moment of staring at the wall, his hands knitting together in concentration, he took the letter and folded it up, sliding it into his bedroom drawer. Smithers back stepped a bit before remerging into the room’s line of sight and opening the door, holding the bear with ginger care, as ready as he would ever be for whatever reaction Burns would have.  
  
But, there wasn’t one.  
  
At least, not one that was noticeable right away. The old man simply slinked under his blankets like usual and waited for his beloved bear to be placed by his side. Right away, he pulled the bear close to him, which Smithers noted as unusual, knowing how self-conscious Burns was of his affectionate love for his bear. Worried, Smithers grinned at the other, who saw the gesture and simply looked away. Clearing his throat slightly, Smithers voiced concern. “Is something bothering you, Sir? You seem upset.”  
  
Burns narrowed his gaze on the wall and turned his icy eyes back to his assistant, who pouted in response, which surprised Burns a bit, causing him to look away again. “No, I’m fine, Smithers. Thank you.”  
  
“It wasn’t me.” The words tumbled out of the assistant’s mouth before he could consider them.  
Squinting, Burns sat up in his bed, mouth narrowing into a frown. “What do you mean?” His words were cold and sent a pang of pain into the other’s heart.  
  
“It’s nothing, Sir, I’m sor—“  
  
“What did you break?” Burns asked, causing Smithers to laugh a bit, confusing the older man further.  
  
“I didn’t break anything, Sir. I could never.”  
  
Burns huffed out and relaxed a bit, but not much. “Then why did you say ‘it wasn’t me,’ Smithers? What wasn’t you?”  
  
“I didn’t…” Smithers took a deep gulp of air. “I didn’t write the letter.”  
  
Burns crossed his arms, a grimace on his face. “What letter?”  
  
“The one you were reading before I came in.” He said the words softly. “I’m sorry Sir, but I saw you reading it. It’s not what you think, though. I didn’t write it, and I don’t know what it was about because I didn’t write it, and I saw you reading it and then you looked sad when I came in. I wanted you to know I didn’t write it.”  
  
Burns hummed and his shoulders tightened up at the words. He obviously wasn’t interested in the topic, but here it was, laid out in front of him. Nodding, the supervisor squirmed further under his blankets. “Alright, Smithers. You may leave now.”  
  
With a quick ‘goodnight,’ the assistant hurried out of the room and to his own car, ready to sleep in his own room and pretend this never happened.  
  
Burns, on the other hand, found himself staring at the ceiling in confusion. Why had someone wrote that letter, with blocky letters saying ‘To: Monty Burns’ plastered on the front, on Smithers’ desk? And why was it that the letter was addressed from Smithers to Burns within the letter’s contents? And why did the letter contain such an odd confession? And the strangest question that plagued his mind was why, oh why, was the handwriting so damn bad in the letter?  
  
  
A week later, and Burns had his mind set on something; or someone, more so. After some careful analyzing he did when Smithers wasn’t around, which he realized wasn’t often, he had navigated himself on the internet to a little advice blog, and though the title was daunting, he knew it fit only to ask the mysterious ‘lgbtwhisperer626’ for advice on his odd fixation on his younger employee. Making sure to explain that a mysterious letter had somehow found its way onto the other’s desk, not mentioning that technically they were boss and employee, a relationship he was not sure of the legality of in Springfield, Burns sent a lengthy message about how his feelings for his ‘much younger friend’ had expanded since he had found the letter, receiving an answer almost right away.  
  
‘I believe the one you long for may have used our advice before. You can find their answer here. It may help you devise your own advice.’ Burns clicked on the link and was taken to another page that explained everything was going on in a clear light. Smithers had to have been the one who asked for advice in the past; ‘Leave it on your desk, and the curiosity will drive him mad.’ Tsk, how cheesy; it was just like Smithers to take such silly advice. Of course, it had worked, hadn’t it? Burns was finding his feelings for Smithers changing rapidly.  
  
Burns sent another anonymous question, asking what he was supposed to do now. After a moment, the user told him to “tell him how you feel, cowardly scrub,” causing the plutocrat to angrily toss his phone to the side, the device clanking from his desk to the ground in a noisy fashion, now displaying the message ‘that was my stupid brother, sorry’ on the screen, but he didn’t notice. Right away, Smithers hurried into the room, a worried expression on his face. “Everything alright, Sir? I heard the clash. Is it the stock market, again?”  
  
Frustrated, Burns nodded and picked the phone up, sitting back at his seat. “Yes, it was the stock market, but I have a better idea figured out now. You can return to your paperwork.”  
  
Once Smithers left the room, the young assistant found his heart throbbing again. His boss had been colder than usual all week, and it seemed as if all Burns wanted was to be alone, worrying his assistant. Would this ever end? Smithers was nearly positive it was because of the letter incident last week, and Smithers found himself cursing the user ‘lgbtwhispere626’ under his breath. Why did their advice have to back fire? Angrily, he pulled out his phone and was ready to leave an angry message in the user’s inbox, only finding himself feeling guilty for even considering it. The whole instance blowing up in his face wasn’t the blogger’s fault, after all, so instead he was typing out a request for follow up advice.  
  
Yet again, he found the advice of ‘be vague about liking someone to see what they say about someone they like’ to be reasonable, and decided to try it out later in the evening. The moment Smithers and Burns were in the Burns’ Manor, once again playing chess, Smithers let out an obviously sad sigh.  
  
Distracted now, the plutocrat glanced up at the other, his eyes narrowing a bit. “What’s bothering you?”  
  
“Nothing big, Sir, it’s just,” Smithers drew a large breath, looking at the board instead of at his target of affection, “I have a friend, and he really likes this guy, but he doesn’t know how to tell him. What advice should I give him?”  
  
The rich man rested his elbow on the sturdy game board, plopping his chin into his hand. “How well does your friend know this guy?”  
  
“I think they are pretty close. They’re rarely apart.”  
  
“Is that so? Then your friend probably knows what he should be doing.” A small grin found its way to Burns face as he watched his assistant become overwhelmingly confused at the answer. “Maybe your friend should stop beating around the bush and just tell this guy how he feels. I mean, if they’re so close, that’s the best way to do it, right?” Burns picked his king piece up and twiddled it. “The king could never get to the other king if he didn’t try to, Smithers.”  
  
Smithers’ heart was thumping in his throat now, and he found it hard to form words, but staring at Mr. Burns was never so easy.  
  
“Smithers, I have another question.”  
  
Shaking himself back to reality the best he could, the assistant managed to croak out, “yes, Sir?”  
  
“Are you this friend that needs advice? Am I that guy he likes?” Burns observed the flustered man in front of him as he slowly nodded his head and stared down at his left hand that rested against the table. Burns reached forward, his hands shaking with age, and tenderly lifted up Smithers’ piece, setting it in the open hand of the assistant. “Do you want to be this old King’s king, Smithers?”  
  
Smithers nodded slowly, closing his hand around the other’s, a few tears streaming from his eyes. “Of course, Sir.”  
  
“Wait, why are you crying? I just asked you to date me, Smithers, why are you crying? Are you being sarcastic? Because you know I can’t understand the millennials’ deal with using sarcasm so carelessly, could you at least spare my feeli-“Burns words were cut off by Smithers’ lips against his, but he pushed the other away, causing Smithers to tense up in confusion. “I wasn’t done talking, Waylon. I was saying, could you at least spare my feelings? Now that I know you weren’t being sarcastic and I’m done talking, you may kiss me.” Smithers chuckled and kissed the other again. Once they separated this time, Burns took his little king-piece next and looked at the chessboard. “Oh, Smithers, you kissing me over the table made you mess up the pieces! Now I don’t know where we stopped.”  
  
Smithers grinned sheepishly leaned back in his chair. “Sorry, Sir.”  
  
Burns smiled in return and laughed. “Oh, balderdash, let’s go get ready for dinner. I want to change ties.”  
  
Looking at the other in awe, Smithers twiddled at his coat. “Are you saying you want dressed up to be around me, Sir?”  
  
“No, Smithers, I’m dressing up for the clam chowder we’re having.”  
  
Confused, Smithers tensed up slightly again.  
  
“Now that, Waylon, is how millennials should be using sarcasm.” Burns laughed a little and led his assistant to his bedroom, where he picked out a much nicer tie and slid a Burns anagrammed waistcoat onto Smithers’ shoulder, tenderly caressing Smithers’ cheek before leaning in to kiss him. The two were stopped suddenly by the sound of one of the estate worker’s voice telling them it was time for dinner in an astonished voice. Burns glowered over at the woman, his mouth in a tight frown. “Tell any of the workers about this, Helen, and I’ll have you fired.”  
  
“Yes, Mr. Burns, Mr. Smithers; I apologize.” She left the room with a still surprised look on her face, leaving the two lovers alone.  
  
“Sir, would you be that upset about other people knowing?” The sycophant’s saddened eyes brought the plutocrat back to his lovesick state.  
  
“Smithers, I’m not sure. For the most part, I don’t want the staff here knowing, because they’ll go out of their way to bother us if they know, and I don’t want the plants workers to know because they might try to hurt you, but other than them, I don’t think I would mind. I would like to be able to go on dates in public with you, and to kiss you in the park and hold your hand as we watch the stars, and,” Burns noticed his rambling and shook his head, “so I’m not against the idea, I just don’t want others to bother us about it.”  
  
Nodding slowly, Smithers picked Burns hand up in his own. “That’s perfectly fine, Sir. But do you think we could maybe give the workers a day off from time to time, so we could be alone here?”  
  
The rich man nodded, leaning forward and letting the other hold him. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.” After a warm moment, he backed away, not letting go of the other’s hand. “Now, let’s go eat. I’m famished.”  
  
With a small laugh, Smithers led the other downstairs, sitting a bit closer to him at the table than usual, holding his hand under the table.  
  
When the clam chowder was brought out, the cook noticed the difference and pointed it out. “We’re trying to discuss a business plan, Judas. Don’t be so nosy.” The assistant said, frowning. The cook set their food down, apologized, and went back into the kitchen.  
  
“Discussing business plans. Yes, well, plans, anyway. Is there any specific place we should go for our first date?” Burns asked, grinning softly at the other as he whispered.  
  
Snickering a little, Smithers smiled in concentration. “Not that I can think of. Something memorable, though.”  
  
Humming in thought, Burns took a bite of his clam chowder, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and rested his head in his hand. “How about we go dancing?”  
  
“Dancing? Where?”  
  
“There’s that ballroom place. I could rent it out, and we could have it all to ourselves.” Burns squeezed Smithers’ hand and grew a giddy grin at the way the other smiled at the gesture.  
  
“That sounds lovely, Sir.” The assistant glanced around and made sure neither Barbara, Judas, or any of the other staff workers were in the room before leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss on the plutocrat’s cheek.  
  
Burns chuckled and focused on his clam chowder, Smithers following suite.  
  
In an hour’s worth, the two were done and like always, Smithers led Burns up to his bedchamber, helping the rich man dress down to his underwear and up to his pajamas. The moment his night shirt was buttoned up the way he liked it, Burns reached up and undid Smithers’ bowtie, causing the assistant to chuckle. “What are you doing, Sir?”  
  
“You always get to dress me up, I want to take a turn and dress you up, Smithers.”  
  
Chucking sheepishly, the other rubbed the back of his head and let the older man continue his mission, watching as he dashed over to his dresser and somehow pulled an outfit out that was too big for the plutocrat and returned, dressing him up gingerly, smiling proudly when he was finished. Burns sat down on his bed and wriggled himself under the blankets as Smithers went to turn the light off and leave the room. Burns crossed his arms. “And where are you going?”  
  
“I was going to my room, Sir.”  
  
“Nonsense! Come sleep with me.”  
  
“You don’t want to know how long I’ve wanted you to say that, Sir.”  
  
“Actually, I’m curious.”  
  
Smithers now sat on the other side of the bed, and while the room was dark, he could still see the other in the dark. Shrugging, he lay down, looking up at the ceiling. “At least 30, maybe 40 years.”  
  
“What the hell, Smithers?” Burns nearly shouted, turning towards the other. “You’re lying to me.”  
  
Smithers squinted up at the ceiling. “I wish I was lying, but it’s one-hundred percent true.” After the other was silent for a minute, he continued. “Sir, I’m curious, about how long have you liked me?”  
  
“I just started liking you last week.”  
  
The two stared at each other in silence for a minute before Smithers started laughing, closing his arms around the other, the other’s laughter joining in. With a tired grin on his face, Smithers kissed the top of his lover’s head tenderly. “Sleep well, sweet prince.”  
  
The last thought on both of their minds before they drifted off to dreamland was: ‘Thank you, lgbtwhisperer626.’  
  
  
And the last thought on the user lgbtwhisperer626’s mind before they fell asleep was, ‘I can’t believe those dorks got together because of me.’


	2. Dancing with You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burns and Smithers have their first date planned out: Dancing. But, if they are going dancing, why is it that Smithers doesn't know how to? Did he even think this through?

Their first date was going to be at a fancy theater, with the ballroom rented out for dancing, and while Smithers was pumped full of excitement, he was also a bit nervous. Why? Well, not knowing how to dance, let alone ballroom dance, was a bit of an issue. Before the big day was coming, he hurried off and met with Marge again, this time on a picnic with her troublesome family and his dear Monty in Casual Encounters Park. While Burns walked alone on the trail, Smithers sat by Marge on her picnic blanket, chatting away.

“So, love trouble again, is it?” She asked politely, biting into a sandwich that her husband had insisted on making for her. She visibly cringed a bit at the flavor of the peanut butter and banana sandwich, but smiled over at her husband and waved anyway.

“Not too much trouble, just… he wants to go dancing for a first date, and I sort of…” He shrugged his shoulders and looked out at the town, far below them now. “I don’t know how to dance.”

“But you agreed to go dancing for a first date?” She mumbled, trying to think of how to help her friend. “Well, maybe you should just tell him to truth.”

He looked down at the grassy hill they were sitting on the top of, thinking deeply about her suggestion. “I just don’t want him to get the wrong idea, I guess. I want him to know I’m interested in him, just not...dancing.”

Marge thought carefully about how she could help. After all, she never had spent much time around the older man her best friend longed for, so she didn’t know how he would react to anything, really. “I guess the best advice I can give you is to just tell him. Or, hey!” She piped up a bit suddenly, grinning from ear-to-ear. “How about you use that advice blog you used before?”

A fond grin appeared on Smithers face. “That might work. You probably gave me the easiest advice already, though. I should just tell him. But I’ll send them a message, see if they can come up with something that won’t involve me having a heart attack.”

She chuckled a little. “I know how that can be. Not as much you probably, but I’ve hid things from Homer over the years, too, ya know.”

He elbowed her in the side, a lopsided grin replacing his fond smile. “You? Marge Simpson?” He snickered. “Like what?”

She looked forward, and found not much actually came to mind. Until Smithers came along, the only people she talked to on a regular basis was her family, and occasionally other moms in town, after all. Did she even have secrets? She must have held something away from her Homie. A grim expression overcame her, and she grew embarrassed, but a comforting hand stopped her worries. “You do know Marge that not having secrets is a good thing, right?”

She hummed in thought and nodded slowly. Of course, it was normal to not have secrets! “Wait, I have one!” She grew excited to tell her friend and looked around like a young school girl to make sure he was the only one to hear it. “I always wanted to be a television reporter, but I never got to.”

A small frown spread across the sycophant’s face and he moved his hand to his knees. “Marge, that’s not a good secret to keep inside you all these years. Why don’t you try to now?” 

A sad hum sounded in her throat. “I’m much too old now.”

He chuckled. “Nonsense, Marge. You’re way younger than Brockmen, and Channel 6 could use a new host. Why don’t you go back to college for it?”

A small, tired grin grew on her face. “That might be…nice.” She looked over at her husband with nervous eyes. “I don’t know if Homey would like that, though.

“Why wouldn’t we? He loves watching television, wouldn’t he?” He nudged her with his elbow again. “He would get to brag to everyone that his wife is _on_ television, Marge! That would make him ecstatic, wouldn’t it?

Her grin growing, Marge looked over at her friend and nodded slowly. “I’ll have to talk to him about it, but…that sounds nice, really.”

“Of course, it does! You’d have your dream job, and a dream family to come home to! What’s not to love about it?”

Now, Marge was getting a bit more excited. “You know, you’re right! I’m going to go talk to Homey about it, right now!” She leapt to her feet and hurried over to her husband, grabbing his arm and dragging him away from Carl and Lenny, who had come along, though Marge didn’t notice earlier. They just watched calmly as Marge dragged her husband along for a walk, leaving Smithers alone.

Slowly, the sycophant stood up and made his way over to the major group, specifically Lenny and Carl. “Hey, have you two decided on kids yet?”

Carl looked to Lenny, then up to Smithers and broke out in a grimace. “Actually, we still haven’t. See, Lenny here wants to name a kid after me, but I was wanting a daughter. We still have to work things out.”

Smithers nodded slowly. “That is a bit of a problem.”

Lisa, who had been listening to the conversation and playing doctor with her Malibu Stacey, looked up at the couple and the other man, her face blank. “Why don’t you do both? Just adopt a little girl and name her Carly."

Everyone looked at the little girl, a bit astonished at her quick thinking. They always knew she was smart, but they were still a bit taken aback. “That’s a good idea, Lis. Where’d you think of that?” Lenny questioned, a smile growing on his mouth now.

“In my head, I guess.” She grinned, turning her attention back to her doll.

Lenny and Carl both shrugged, accepting the answer. Smithers looked down at the little girl and squatted next to her in the dirt. “So, your mother says you and your brother are fighting. Is everything okay?”

Lisa didn’t pay much attention to the other and kept her eyes on her doll, but replied anyway. “Yeah, he’s fighting with Milhouse now, instead. He’s been mad at everyone lately, but last night he was crying a lot. He thinks he’s quiet, but I could hear him. He didn’t let Mom or Dad talk to him, and he slammed the door in my face when I tried going into his room. He’s been acting weird all week.”

“That does sound odd. Do you know where he is?”

She looked up now, her eyes glancing around the park. “Last time I saw him, he was over by the pond skipping rocks.”

Smithers stood up and looked over at the pond, sure enough seeing the little blond boy skipping stones. After thanking the little pink-cladded girl, he made his way down to the pond, keeping his distance from the boy, but making sure he saw him by tossing a stone of his own into the calm water.

Bart glared at him and picked up his bag and moved further away from the other. Smithers followed him, sitting down on a large rock this time. “Somethin’ bothering you?” 

“Yeah, you are.” The little boy grumbled, refusing to make eye contact with the other. 

“C’mon, Bart, you can tell me what’s wrong.” He grinned softly and watched the boy pout.

“You don’t even know me, why would you want to know?” 

He had a point. Smithers had much more interaction with the rest of the family than with Bart. All he had to show for was a little bit of interaction with him when Burns had adopted him as his own.

“Maybe that makes it easier. I wouldn’t tell your mom, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Shrugging, Smithers looked over at the boy and grinned softly as the boy sauntered over and sat next to him, still playing with rocks and tossing them into the water. 

“I’m not smart.”

“What do you mean? I’m sure you’re plenty smart.” Smithers said, a bit taken aback by the problem, jumping a bit when the boy groaned and held his head up on his fists.

“No, I’m not. And because of that, I can’t go to college… at least, not with Milhouse.”

Looking out at the pond, Smithers pushed the conversation further. “Why do you have to go to college with Milhouse? If you two keep in touch, why do you have to go to the same place?”

A bit unsure now, Bart grinded his elbows against his knees and looked at the ground. “Well, I just want to go with him. He’s my best friend and I don’t want him to leave Springfield without me. But when I told him that, he said I was being weird for being so upset over this.”

“That’s not weird, Bart. But he’s probably confused too, ya know.”

Bart furrowed his eyebrows and kicked at the ground. “I’m not…confused. I just don’t want him to get up and leave me forever. If he leaves, I’ll be stuck here all alone."

“He probably doesn’t want to leave without you, either. Where does he want to go?” Smithers asked, causing the young boy to groan again.

“He wants to go to stupid Shelbyville. I think he wants to stay away from his parents. His dad, anyway. His dad has started drinking like mine does, but Milhouse isn’t used to it like I am.” Bart was a bit lost in thoughts now, but Smithers didn’t mind. 

“Why don’t you just talk about it?”

“Because… he’s still mad at me for being weird. And I think I’m still a little mad at him.” Bart pouted a bit and kicked the ground again.

“Well, wait a week, then talk. Or, talk on the phone, and if either of you get too angry, you can just put the phone down for a minute.” Smithers said, causing the little boy to look up at him for a minute.

“I…guess that could work. If I can get him to talk to me, that is.” Bart thought again for a minute before standing pulling a DS out of his bag. “Hell, I’ll just toss rocks at his window again. That’ll keep him up.” The boy laughed devilishly and looked at his game. “Now, I wanna play some Pokémon, can you get lost?”

Snickering, Smithers rose to his feet. “Are you sure? It’s nice out.”

Groaning, Bart closed the device and slid it back into his bag. “Fine, I’ll go play Pokémon GO on mom’s phone. Did she leave her bag by the picnic stuff?” Smithers simply nodded, and the boy bounded off, leaving Smithers in the dust.

A grin on his lips, Smithers pulled out his cellphone and called Burns’ number. “Hey Sir, where are you on the trail?”

Minutes later and he had caught up to Burns, who was holding onto Smithers arm within minutes. “Are you ready to go home, yet?”

Smithers furrowed his brow and held the other’s hand. “I mean, we could return home, but it’s not very late. Are you sure?” He placed a gentle hand on top of Monty’s who hummed calmly in return.

“Well, what else is there to do?” Burns looked around the park as they walked, a lost expression on his face. There really wasn’t much else the two could do.

“How about we go sit by the pond?”

A small smile crept onto Burns face. “That sounds alright.”

After only a minute of sitting on the bank by the pond, Burns dozed off leaning against the other, who had been playing with the scruff of the hair on the back of his head like he had always longed to, humming an ABBA song to himself in content. Gently, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, making sure not to disturb his lover. Typing slowly, he left another anonymous message to ‘lgbtwhisperer626’, explaining that he didn’t know how to tell his lover that he had no clue how to dance. Before he could turn the screen off and before he even noticed, Burns had woken up and peeked at the screen, reaching forward and turning the screen off himself.

A bit startled, Smithers looked down at Burns, who stared at him in silence for a long minute. “Waylon, if you had so much on your mind, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I…I didn’t want to upset you, Sir.”

“I do get upset at things often, but I don’t ever get too upset with you, Waylon.” Burns mumbled, still leaning against the other.

Smithers chuckled at how untrue that was and squeezed Burns arm a little, causing the smaller man to scoot closer and sit up slightly.

“Alright, starting now, I’m going to try my best to not get upset at anything you do.”

“Sir, it’s fine to be upset at me. I just knew you really liked dancing, and I wanted to let you down gently, and I didn’t know how to word it.” Smithers dropped his phone beside him and pulled Burns hand into his.

“Well, either way, I know now.” Burns grumbled a bit in thought. “How about we do something else then?”

Smithers pouted a bit at the idea. “Nonsense, Sir. How about I just get lessons?”

“I don’t like the idea of other people dancing with you.” The words were blunt, and Burns grew a bit embarrassed that he said them. “If…that’s alright.”

Still a bit upset, Smithers nodded. “Well, what else did you have in mind?”

Deep in thought, Burns interlocked his fingers with his assistant’s and perked up suddenly at an idea. “How about bowling?”

Grinning innocently down at the love of his life, Smithers nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds fun. Only thing is, Sir,” the sycophant’s face fell slightly, reducing his excited smile to a lopsided grin. “that’s usually a group activity. I mean, two people could play hypothetically, but—“

Burns held a finger up to Smithers lips and shushed him. “No need to worry. We can surely find another couple to invite. In fact, I’d be interested in meeting some of your friends, why don’t we invite them?”

A small grin broke out across Smithers’ face. “I love that idea, Sir. I’m sure they’d be happy to get to know you better. I um...talk about you a lot, after all, so they’re probably curious about you.”

“You talk about me a lot, eh?” Burns traced a finger up and down Smithers’ arm. “What kind of things do you say?”

Snickering, Smithers gazed at the pond bashfully. “Well, I generally talk about how much I love you and how sad I am that I can’t be with you, but I think I’m going to continue talking about how much I love you and how happy I am that I somehow ended up with you.”

A bit flustered, Burns shifted in his seat. “Is it too early for me to say I love you, too?”

Quietly, Smithers leaned down and whispered to the other as he squeezed his hand tightly. “That’s all up to you, Sir, but I’d be happy to hear it if you want to say it.”

“Well, I… I do love you too, Waylon. I know it’s pretty early to say that, but if you are okay with me saying it, I want to.”

With a content look on his face, the sycophant gazed down upon his lover and cupped his face in his hand, leaning down and initiating a kiss.

After a moment, the unbearable sound of Homer Simpson saying ‘ewww why are they kissing, that’s gross, Marge,’ caused the two to separate and look in the direction of the voice, only to see Homer and Marge standing a few feet away from them.

“Sorry about that, we didn’t know you two were over here.” Marge apologized, smacking Homer on the back, causing him to muster up an apology as well.

“I’m sorry for saying you guys kissing is gross. If it helps, I think kissing in general is gross.”

Marge glared at him, not liking the answer. “That’s a lie and you know it, Homer.”

Rolling his eyes, Homer began to speak again. “It’s not doing the kissing that’s gross, Marge, it’s seeing it. You don’t think about doing it, but when you see it…it’s so weird.”

Smithers could swear that his beloved boss had whispered the words ‘that’s true,’ but he chose to not respond and payed attention to Marge instead.

“Go see Lenny and Carl or something, Homer!” Marge ordered, causing the thoughtful Homer to stumble back up the hill and to the picnic basket. “Anyway, you two, I’m very sorry for interrupting.”

“Nonsense, Marge. We were wondering if you and Homer would like to join us for bowling sometime soon, actually.” Smithers said after a moment of processing the situation. 

“That sounds nice. I’ll talk to him about it.” Marge said, heading back up the hill after her husband, still a bit upset at him.

“Are you ready to go home now, Waylon?” Burns words came through in a whisper against Smithers arm.

“Of course, Sir. I’m a bit tired, actually."

The older man lifted an eyebrow and chuckled. “You’re tired? Well, I guess we’ll just have to cuddle up and nap when we get home then, won’t we?”

A small grin on his lips, Smithers nodded shyly. “I’d love to, Sir. Did you leave anything by the picnic basket?”

“No, actually. I’ve got everything I brought with me holding me, after all.”

“Sir…” Smithers cooed, unable to stop himself from letting out a chuckle. “Alright, alright, I’d like to go say goodbye to everyone. Do you want to come with me?”

“Yes, of course!” Burns insisted, clinging tightly to his lover’s arm, letting him lead the way down to the main recreational area of the park, bidding his goodbye to the Simpson family and friends, most of which still looked shocked to see Burns holding Smithers so tightly and smiling for once. Lisa looked unmoved by everything, and Bart made sure to say something that confused Burns, like “later dudes,” and Homer apologized yet again for interrupting earlier, while Marge, Lenny, and Carl just bid them goodbye.

Once the pair had arrived at the Burns manor, they made their way to Burns bedchamber and curled up for a nap, only waking up to dish out an order for dinner; they were having homemade raviolis tonight. After dinner, they curled up in the bedroom again, this time with the television on, with Smithers sprawled out across Burns’ lap as he watched some movie about dolls and Burns did a crossword puzzle. Before long, both males retired to bed yet again.

The next day, Smithers met up with Marge after work yet again, this time asking for dancing lessons.

“But you texted me last night that we’re doing bowling now.” She hummed, knowing it would break her Homey’s heart if she had to cancel his bowling plans, as he did love the sport dearly.

“Oh, we are! But afterwards, I was going to take him dancing as a surprise.” Smithers set his tea down on the counter. “I know I ask a lot of you, Marge, but this is really important to me.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll help. I’m not great at dancing, but I know someone. I’ll have her come over tomorrow.” 

“Thank you so much, Marge. I’ll repay you one day, I promise.”

Marge waved him off. “Now, don’t you have someone to get home to?”

With a grin, he left the house and returned to his own home.

The next day, he came over at the time she had texted him, and found Marge and an unfamiliar woman in the living room.

“So, you must be Waylon. Name’s Ruth, Ruth Powers.” The stronger woman shook his hand and turned on the stereo, which played soft classical music. “Alright, I know two types of dancing: slow and swing. Which do you need to learn?”

“Both.” Smithers said the word without thinking, not really knowing what Burns would want to dance to, but knowing those were the closest styles.

“Alright, come ‘ere, buddy, and don’t step on any toes.”

An hour later, and the three were all grinning and laughing as they sat on the couch, tired out. A few minutes later, and Smithers headed out the door to return home to his beloved.

Late that night, after Burns had fallen asleep, Smithers browsed the web on his phone and found ‘thelgbtwhisperer626’s blog again, and was ready to leave a thank you message, when he saw that messages was turned off for the user. A bit worried, he scrolled through the blog and found a post telling of how the user needed advice themselves and was taking a short hiatus until they got any worth taking. Apparently, the user was thinking a girl liked her, but was also scared that the other girl was trying to trap her and force her to publicly come out, which she did not want. She was asking for advice because despite this, she did like the girl, but didn’t know how to talk to her at all.

While he was by no means great at giving advice, and if anything, he sucked at, seeing as how he always seemed to get it from a blog himself, he decided to muster up his energy and try to give some good advice: write her a letter explaining how you feel, but don’t sign it. If she likes you, she’ll know it’s you, seeing as it sounds as if you are always noticing each other.’ 

After sending his message, the sycophant dozed off. When he woke up, it was bowling day. Like every day, he and Monty both work up and enjoyed a long breakfast before heading to work. The minute the workday was over, both hurried over to the bowling alley with dancing shoes hidden in the back of the car.         

“Sorry I had to bring the kids,” Marge said sadly, holding her youngest. “We couldn’t find a sitter who wasn’t busy.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Even Grandpa didn’t want to visit this time.” Bart said, heading over to his alley, joining Milhouse’s side.

“Are they not fighting anymore?” Smithers asked, motioning to Bart and Milhouse with his head.

“No, they still are, but… it’s odd. It’s more like they’re competing for something, and I don’t know what.” Marge sighed and looked over at Homer, who already was chugging down a beer.

With sad eyes, Smithers looked over at Homer as well, Honestly, how did those two work? “Well, we’re going to get out bowling shows, so get ready to lose!”

Marge once again grew fire in her face, hurrying over to her seat and setting up the scoreboard for three games; one for Homer, Marge, Smithers, and Burns; one for Lisa, and her little friend Jessica who came along; and one for Bart and Milhouse, who were still looking at each other oddly. “We’ll surely beat them, won’t we, Waylon?” Burns asked, as Smithers helped the other slide his bowling shoes on.

“You bet we will. They’re going to get pummeled.” Smithers now slid on his own bowling shoes, a determined look on his face. “Can I have a good luck kiss?”

Snickering a bit, Burns leaned forward and obliged, and the only people who seemed to notice were Lisa and Jessica, the latter who elbowed Lisa in the side and whispered something about it that was so embarrassing it made Lisa look away and smile awkwardly.

The two old men made their way over to their lane and cracked their fingers, only to find that Homer was not waiting, and Marge looked around nervously as she sat alone. Smithers went and sat by her side. “Did he drink too much?”

Marge only nodded, causing Smithers to look around for other willing bowling partners. When he noticed the woman from last week—Ruth was her name—he hurried over to her. She had two teenage girls with her who were taking up a lane, but the older woman just sat and read a magazine. “Hey, Ruth, do you wanna come bowl with us?”

The woman set her magazine down in her lap and glanced over at the group, her eyes gluing specifically to Marge. “Matters. Why is Margey lookin’ so down?”

“Homer’s too drunk to bowl.”

Smithers could swear the woman’s cigarette smoke went into her lungs and lit her eyes up with anger. “Is that so?” She sounded pissed, and the sycophant looked around nervously for Marge’s husband to make sure he wasn’t about to get his ass kicked. The woman smudged her cigarette out and made her way over to the group, taking the seat by Marge and putting a comfortable arm around her right away. “Hey Margey, it looks like you need a bowling partner.”

Marge looked up slowly at the other, nodding slowly, a small grin on her face. “Thank you, Ruth. I’d like that.” After a few more minutes of calming down for Marge, the group of four started their game, which quickly revealed that the only person who was talented at bowling was Ruth, while Burns and Marge were decent at best, and Burns was unbearable. Even so, each time someone knocked down one pin, the whole team cheered, and after they finished the first game, they took a short break before the next.

The four took the time to help Marge and Ruth check up on their kids. A quick inspection of Lenny, Carl, and Maggie, showed that the baby was fast asleep somehow, even though the bowling alley’s speakers were booming. Carl’s story was that the little girl had fallen asleep because they had rocked her for a good while, but Lenny insisted that it was because being in Carl’s arms was simply comforting. After some mumbling from the two, Smithers left and went to check on Marge’s other two kids. Keeping a distance but watching them, he picked up on Lisa and Jessica’s conversations, but didn’t get much out of it, other than the fact that Jessica wanted Lisa to play her saxophone for her while she sang a Gospel song she wrote herself sometime soon, and he could swear by the way the two talked that there was a tiny bit of flirting going on. After all, Lisa didn’t particularly like the other very much before, so something must’ve changed, and Smithers supposed it was a crush of some sort.  And then there was Bart and Milhouse.

The two boys were bowling in the most aggressive fashion Smithers had ever seen, which made him think that maybe they didn’t make-up just yet. The two noticed him watching and took a short break, only for the two to hurry over to Ruth’s daughter and the other teen girl with her.

“Hey, Laura, are you and Shauna friends now?” Milhouse asked in a clueless tone, causing the two girls to exchange a glance and giggle a bit. 

Bart rolled his eyes and looked up at the girls. “Why’re you guys bowling together, though? And why’d your mom come?”

Laura grinned. “My mom came because Shauna’s dad didn’t want her to be messing with any boys, and he assumed we would be if my mom didn’t come.” She reached over and grabbed the other teen’s hand, grinning happily. “And let’s just say we’re bowling together because Shauna’s old man doesn’t have to worry about her messing around with boys anytime soon.”

Milhouse stared at the two blankly, not piecing together the information right away, while Bart’s face showed his disbelief. “You two are dating? Since when?”

Now it was Shauna’s turn to speak up. “We’ve been dating for a few weeks now. Our one month is coming up, actually.” Bart saw the two’s hands squeeze together tightly again and felt his heart drop to the bottom of his stomach.

“I don’t get it. Why is it every time I like a girl, she ends up liking girls a few weeks later? What does that say about me?” Bart whined a bit, a confused expression on his face.

Shrugging, Laura ruffled his hair. “Just means you attract people who think the same way as you. You like girls, and these girls like girls. Maybe they’re trying to fit in by liking you."

Bart didn’t feel like the answer was what he wanted, but he trudged over back to his bowling lane anyway. For the first time that night, Milhouse tried to comfort Bart.

With a hand on his friend’s back, Milhouse smiled over at the other. “Ya know Bart, maybe it means you like girls and boys.”

“What do you mean?” Bart scowled in a whisper, not wanting anyone else to hear their conversation.

“People can like both, and I thought…I thought maybe, because of how upset you were last week that I might be moving away when I’m older…” Milhouse wasn’t looking at the other now, growing bashful.

“You said I was weird last week when I said I wanted to go with you.”

“I didn’t understand, Bart, but I looked some words up, and I think I get it now.” Milhouse smiled over at his friend, who was practically boiling now, as he leapt forward and landed them on the bowling lane, trying his best to hit his friend, who after a minute or so, hit back.

“Stop it you two, stop it I said!” Marge called, pulling the two apart. “What’s been going on with you two? Friends don’t beat each other up!”

Both boys tried desperately to reach the other again, throwing their fists in the air aimlessly, but they slowly stopped at Marge’s last sentence, and reduced to hollering.

“He started it!” Bart yelled, causing Milhouse to repeat the words. “He called me weird last week, and—"

“Is that what this is all about, Bart Simpson?” Both boys went silent at Marge’s question. “You know holding grudges is bad. Now, you two sit down, and talk it out!” Marge sat the two down on their

chairs and walked back over to her lane, sitting down with a frustrated grimace.

Walking back over to Marge, Smithers felt a bit tense. He rarely saw her yelling, and she could be frightening when she wanted to be. “Hey Marge, I think we’re going to head out.”

The mother of three glanced up sadly. “Oh, I’m sorry you had to see that, Waylon. I don’t know why they’ve been like this. They rarely fight.” She shook her head and looked at the gameboard. “I’m sorry my family ruined your guys’ first date.”

Smithers shook the thought away with his hand. “Don’t worry about it, Marge. Nothing was ruined. It’s getting a bit late, is all.”

The tired woman nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. You two have a nice evening.”

Smithers looked from Ruth to Marge and back to Ruth, who was gazing at Marge with lovesick eyes. “You too, Marge, Ruth.”

The moment the older couple left the building and started driving, Burns noticed the route was different. “Smithers, why aren’t we on the route home?”

“I have somewhere special to take you, Monty. If that’s alright, of course."

The rich man fixed his tie a bit and chuckled softly. “Of course, it’s alright. Do I get any hints?”

“No.”

After a few solid minutes of Burns pouting, Smithers cleared his throat. “We’re going somewhere you’ll really enjoy. Somewhere that will make this night very special. But when we’re a block away,

I’m going to have to ask you to close your eyes.”

Snickering at the silly thought, Burns leaned into his seat. “Alright, alright. Just tell me when.”

“Now.”

With another soft snicker, Burns covered his eyes and waited until the car stopped to peek, only to have Smithers tie a spare tie around the other’s eyes so he couldn’t see. After a moment of blind walking with his only support being Smithers guiding him, the sycophant reached up and removed the silk from his lover’s eyes, revealing the ballroom that Burns had wanted to dance in.

“Waylon…” He trailed off, admiring the room in its beauty, not noticing that Smithers had popped a CD into the full-room-speaker CD Player. The moment the beginning of “Fly Me to The Moon” started to play, he saw Burns’ face evolve from surprised to ecstatic within minutes.

“May I have this dance, Monty?” Smithers tried his best to appear charming, in the exact same outfit he had worn bowling and was not sweating in, with his hair sticking to his head and his glasses nearly sliding onto the floor.

With a giddy grin, Burns hurried forward and grabbed onto Smithers’ arm, pulling him close and kissing him right away, surprising the assistant a bit. “Of course, you can.” Burns mumbled against his lover’s lips before pulling away and grabbing one of his hands, with the other resting on his darling’s waist. Slowly, they started to slow dance, but soon, as the song picked up, so did their dancing, and within minutes they were swinging each other around and twirling each other like ballerinas until the CD ended and the two were plum out of breath.

“Are you ready to go home, Sir?” Smithers whispered to the other from their position now, which was laying on the floor and staring at the beautiful architecture on the ceiling.

“I suppose. I am a bit peckish right now.”

“Do you want me to call home and have them start dinner now, then?”

With a tired nod, Burns leaned against Smithers’ shoulder and kissed his cheek sloppily. “If you will. I want you to decide dinner for tonight.”

A bit taken aback, Smithers rang up the Burns’ Manor and dished his order of lemon-peppered Salmon out before slowly raising to his feet, pulling Burns up with him once he was stable. The moment he hung up, he pulled the other into a short kiss and led him to the car.

That night, as the two now stuffed men gazed at the ceiling, Smithers couldn’t help but doze off first this time to the sound of Burns’ heartbeat in his ears, but the older man didn’t mind much, and cuddled up against him for warmth. He wanted to be able to turn the light off, but seeing as how Smithers fell asleep on him, that wasn’t going to happen. Instead, the elderly man just yawned and let his love sleep, which lured him into his own dreamland.


	3. Texan Troubles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Burns is reintroducing Smithers to his circle of businessmen as his boyfriend, and while one of them seems to be fine with it, the other is not. What chaos will ensue?

The two stood in front of the mirror together, with Smithers hugging Burns from behind and fixing his tie. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to bring me with you, Sir?” The assistant murmured, still a bit nervous at the idea of meeting the conservative businessmen that Burns worked with face to face and telling them that he was dating Burns.

Wrapping his arms around Smithers’ arms, the older man leaned back and looked at the other through the mirror. “A good idea? Maybe not. But I want everyone I know that we’re together.” Smithers thought affectionately about how Burns had been the one to announce their relationship to the staff, and then, cringing at the memory, he remembered how they had came out to the power plant quite quickly. To be fair, neither of them knew that Smithers was sitting on the PSA button, but it was still embarrassing that the entire power plant heard the two flirting back and forth and then kissing for at least a solid two minutes before either of them noticed the problem.

Smiling a bit at the sweet revelation, the younger man nodded and pulled away, causing a hum of distress to sound from Burns, who turned around and tried his best to help the other with his bowtie, failing miserably and ending up with it in a floppy ribbon instead. Calmly, Smithers reached forward and held the other’s hands, kissing them tenderly before taking care of his own bowtie. “I’m happy you feel that way, Sir. I’m just a bit nervous, I guess.”

“Why so, my dear?” The plutocrat cooed, smiling lovingly at him.

“Well, aren’t they going to be a little…” he shrugged his shoulder, trying to come up with a suitable word, “a little judgmental?”

A grimace arose on Burns face and he pulled back slightly. “No, of course not! Why would they be judgmental?” He shook his head, a disappointed look on his face. “I’ve known these men all of my life, I’m sure they’re not going to judge us.”

“I’m sorry for thinking that, Sir.” He hummed in apology, causing the other to pull him into a hug. “Just...forgive me for being nervous, Sir.”

Pulling away, Burns cupped the other’s face in his hands, touching their foreheads together. “It’ll all be alright. And hey, if they do end up being judgmental, we’ll leave. I can deal with finding other businessmen.”

Smiling, Smithers placed a gentle kiss upon the other’s brow before pulling away and looking at the two in the mirror. “The matching suits was a lovely idea, Sir. We look nice.”

“Nice is a bit of an understatement, don’t you think?”

Smithers just rolled his eyes and held the other’s hand. “Are you ready to go?

  
A nod and a car ride later, the two were outside the Gilded Truffle, where the meeting was being held. The moment the two entered the room, all eyes were on them. Normally, Smithers would go and sit at the table with the rest of the assistants, but this time, Burns led the other to the main table, sitting him down in the seat beside him.

“Burns, why is your lap dog sitting at the table with us?” A familiar Texan man with a ten-gallon hat on asked, sucking the smoke out of his thick cigarette.

As much as Smithers wanted to defend himself, he simply looked over at his lover with worried eyes. With a gleam in his eyes, the older man took over the conversation.

“He’s not my lapdog, he’s my partner.”

Another man at the table with a blue-shirt on who Smithers hadn’t seen before, also took a deep breath of smoke from his cigar. “What do you mean? Has he started doing business of his own?”

The Texan man laughed and coughed once. “Him? Don’t you know who he’s the son of?”

Confused, Smithers glanced down at his hands. Why were they talking about his father suddenly?

“His father was the worst business man I ever did meet. Couldn’t tell the difference between a stock and a trade.” The Texan man added, causing Burns to scoff in annoyance.

Hopefully, Smithers looked back up, specifically at his lover, his eyes wide.

“First of all, he’s my life partner, not my business partner. Second of all, don’t talk about Waylon Sr. that way. That man was my closest friend for the longest time. And third of all,” Burns squeezed the other’s hand under the table tightly. “Smithers is an excellent business man. He handles most of my expenses, and whenever I’m done dealing with all of you, he looks over them at home to make sure I’m not being scammed.”

The blue-cladded man stared in thought, his cigar hanging loosely from his lips. The rich Texan man, on the other hand, found no problem in displaying his opinion. “Your life partner, Monty? What do you mean?” His eyes were narrowed at the two of them.

Burns slowly lifted his and Smithers’ intertwined hands onto the tabletop, revealing exactly what he meant. The Texan man just stared, astonished. “What is it, Richard? Cat got your tongue?”

Smithers chuckled a bit at Burns joke and rubbed their shoulders together. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all. He had his Monty by his side, after all.

Nodding, the Texan man glared at them for another minute before pulling a pack of cards out of his pocket, causing the blue-shirted man to smirk and lift out a case of his own.

“Alright, so which are we playing, poker or blackjack?”

After a few rounds of both poker and blackjack, they decided to order food, which involved Burns and Smithers whispering to each other about what they wanted off the menu, causing the rich Texan man and the blue-shirted man to sneak unfriendly glares at them the entire time.

“Alright, I’m going to the restroom.” Burns murmured a moment after their orders for a shared order of filet mignon had been placed. Smithers stood up to follow him, but Burns chuckled, kissed him on the cheek, and set him back down in his seat. “I’ll just be a minute, Waylon.”

Nodding and sighing in love-struck awe, the assistant gazed after the other and only turned his head when one of the other businessmen spoke up. “So, when did you start dating?” It was the Texan man.

“Just two weeks ago,” Smithers answered in a quiet, dreamy voice. His eyes showed that he still was surprised himself.

“Have you slept together yet?”

The comment caught Smithers off guard and his shoulders tensed up. “Excuse me?”

“C’mon, it’s clear you don’t really like ‘im. You’re way too young to be interested in Monty. Becha you’re after his wallet, ain’t ya?” The Texan man puffed smoke into Smithers’ face, causing the other to cough harshly.

Once he could breath, Smithers narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “I’m not after his money. I’ve loved him for years.”

“Yeah, right. And I’m a liberal.” The Texan man laughed at his own joke and coughed himself, the other businessman stepping in.

“He’s after Monty’s Money, Monty’s Money...” He sang the words, and Smithers couldn’t help but cringe.

“I mean it. I’ve worked for the man for years, and I’m paid well, anyway. I have no reason to be after his money.”

“Here’s the thing, and we all know it, there’s no such thing as too much money.” The Texan man guffawed and leaned back in his chair. “Just admit, you’re his little piece of arm candy, aren’t ya? Bet you get off on that praise.”

“No, I don’t, Richard. I love him, but it doesn’t surprise me that you don’t know anything about people being in love.”

The rich man leaned forward, his face smudged into a scowl. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, sugar?”

Shuddering at the name, Smithers leaned forward himself. “Three divorces and counting, Rich.”

The old man leaned back and Smithers was surprised he didn’t launch toward him and attack him, but the reason why sat beside him. “Have the drinks arrived yet?”

“No, no, they haven’t, Sir. But I hope they arrive soon, I think Richard’s appetizer is a bit too salty for him to handle.” Smithers gave a smug grin toward the bitter Texan before turning his attention to his Monty, looping their arms together.

“Is that so? Hm. This place is too cheap, isn’t it?” Burns grumbled out, picking at his own steak fries. “Next time we’ll meet somewhere much better. And more dimly lit. It’s much too bright in here.”

“Should I go ask them to turn the lights down, Sir?”

Chuckling softly, Burns rested his hand on top of Smithers’ shaking his head. “No, no, don’t worry about it. I’m going to go ask where those damn drinks are, though. Stay here, Waylon.” The older man stood up yet again, leaving a trail of gazes behind him.

“Becha get off on calling him Sir, don’t you?”

The sound of the Texan’s taunting tone drove Smithers back to reality. Groaning, he crossed his arms yet again. “No, I don’t. I love him, but that word is strictly used for work hours.”

“Yeah, becha do overtime as much as you can, though.”

Rolling his eyes into the back of his skull practically at this point, Smithers stood up and left the room, finding someone to turn the lights in the room down.

When he returned, Burns was returning at the same time, and they bumped against each other on the way into the room. Chuckling, Burns pulled Smithers arm into his own and led the other back to their seats.

“You got the lights turned down anyway, eh?” Burns whispered a bit, causing a relaxing Smithers to nod.

“I couldn’t help it, Sir. I knew it’d make you happy.”

“You always know what I want.” Burns rubbed his hand over Smithers’ hand, causing the other to sigh in happiness again, and causing the Texan man to make a gagging motion when Burns wasn’t looking.

Just then, the entrees arrived, and Smithers started to cut their steak up right away, Burns kissing feathered kisses on Smithers’ cheek as he did so, causing the other to let out low chuckles. Once the food was completely cut up, the two took turns feeding each other, barely able to focus on the business deal, their eyes too enamored with each other.

Once the plate was taken away, the couple decided to go to the restroom and clean themselves up, leaving the two strange businessmen behind.

“I hate that little hog.” The Texan man said right away, surprising the other man a bit even.

“I don’t know Rich, he doesn’t seem that bad. I think he actually likes Burnsie, too.” The blue-shirted man said, smiling up at the waitress as she placed new drinks on their table.

“Well, he thinks it’s okay to joke about my divorces. I don’t think that’s alright. In fact,” the rich man pulled a small bottle out of his container. “I’m going to do something about it.”

The other man watched in disbelief as the rich Texan man opened the bottle and dumped some pills into his hand, cracking them open and dumping the contained powder into Smithers water, mixing it up thoroughly so no one knew of his crime. “That’ll teach the little asskisser.”

“Rich, what kind of powder is that?” Nervously, the blue-shirted man flickered his eyes from the drink to the other rich man.

“Relax, it’s just a little Borax. It won’t kill him, he’ll just be sick for weeks. Immense pain, ya know.” The rich Texan proudly puffed on another cigar, reclining in his chair.

Knowing that borax was completely poisonous, the mafia businessman made it a point in his mind to warn the assistant. “Alright, an’ what if I tell ‘im?”

Cracking his knuckles, Richard leaned to the side so only the mafia man could hear. “Listen ‘ere, Louie, if you squeal this deal is off and I’ll beat you like the pig you are. Understand?”

“Yes, Rich, I hear ya.” The mafia man groaned, shaking his head.

Once the two returned, Burns called for a bill. “Alright boys, I think we’ve settled this issue once and for all, yes?”

The mafia man nodded, the rich Texan following suite. The couple both took a long sip out of their drinks as they continued to speak about legalities. Suddenly, Smithers clenched at his stomach and winced in pain, collecting everyone’s attention. “Sir, I’m not feeling well.”

“Hm…I knew that filet mignon was undercooked. We’ll ask for a refund on our way out then, alright?” Burns whispered, causing the other to nod slowly. A minute or so later, Richard stood up and stretched.

“Alright, it’s been nice, boys. I’m going to go ahead and head out.” The man gave a smug grin to Smithers as he winced in pain again, and the moment the rich countryman left the room, the mafia man leaped forward practically, pulling the remaining two men into a huddle.

“Okay, so I wasn’t supposed to spill this, but Rich there stuck some Borax in Smitty’s drink. I’ve already dispatched an ambulance, they should be here any minute. When they get here and they ask what happened, claim it was the restaurant, a’ight? Big Rich learns I squealed and my boss will give me a thrashing.”

Right away, Burns gripped onto Smithers’ arm, a nervous look aligning his face. “Is he going to be alright?”

Laughing, Louie nodded. “Should be fine. He’ll be really sick at first, and they’ll have to pump his stomach, but he should be out in a few days.”

Nodding, a fearful look in his eyes, Smithers gripped onto Burns a bit, and within minutes the sound of sirens filled their ears.

The moment they were outside and Smithers was being loaded onto the ambulance, the manager of the restaurant came outside and Burns yelled his ear off, causing the poor confused man to cry, knowing this meant his restaurant would be shut down. After a minute of hollering, Burns clambered onto the ambulance without permission and gripped onto Smithers hand, who was now cringing and lightly crying in pain. The younger man held tightly onto the other’s hand before one of the nurses shooed the older fellow away so they could help take care of Smithers.

Nervously, Burns sat down in the ambulance and watched them work on the other for the duration of the ride, and once they arrived at the hospital he was trying to follow the gurney back into the ER, but a nurse held him back and had him wait in the lobby.

Normally, they would make people go home past visiting hours, but a handful of 100 dollar bills let him sleep in the lobby. When he woke up it was to the face of Marge Simpson, who had nudged him awake.

“We heard what happened. Have they let you see him yet?”

The old man shook his head and nearly started to cry as he spoke. “They keep taking my Smithers away.”

Marge looked worriedly at the other members of her family, who all held a similar expression to hers. Unlike hers, however, there was more meaning than just sympathy in hers, as there was empathy. She had almost lost Homer in the past, and she assumed that the old man felt the way she did then. Sitting next to the man, she put a soft hand on his back, and while he usually would recoil from the contact, he simply kept his head hung in sorrow and cried softly.

A few minutes later, and a nurse approached the group. “Are you the family of Waylon Smithers?”

“Yes. Yes, we are.” Marge stated, holding a determined look on her face. “Can we see him now?”

“Can I see your identifications?” The woman asked tiredly, causing a frustrated Burns to pull his wallet out. “I have his ID with me, is that enough?”

Looking at the card, the woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I’ll need more proof than that.”

Groaning, Burns pulled his wallet back out and slid the ID in, retrieving a 500-dollar bill. “Is President McKinley enough ID for you?”

“I’m sorry, but you can’t bribe— “the woman was cut off by a bill with three zeros and James Madison plastered on the front. “Right this way.”

Once the group was in the back room, Burns was kneeling at the side of the bed, clutching desperately at Smithers hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than last night, but not great.” The younger man strained a smile and gazed at his love tiredly.

“When will you feel ready to go home?”

“They said it should only be another day, so that’s good. They said once I get out I have some medicine I’ll have to take to make sure my body is healing. The borax apparently was eating away at the walls of my stomach, and the medicine will help heal me a bit.”

“Borax?” Lisa chimed in, her voice nervous. “When Mom said that you had been poisoned, I assumed food poisoning, not Borax!”

Chuckling softly, Smithers reached forward and rustled the girl’s hair. “Yup. Someone slipped it into my drink, and it dissolved, so I didn’t know.”

“Borax is deadly if not treated. Why would someone want to hurt Smithers so bad?” Lisa whined a bit, more upset than she was on the way to the hospital, now knowing the truth.

“Yeah, who the hell would want to hurt Mr. Smithers? He’s nice to even me!” Bart added, causing another weak chuckle to escape Smithers’.

“That’s business for you, I guess.” Smithers said, smiling over at the family, noticing a basket of flowers in Homer’s arms. “You guys didn’t have to bring me flowers. I’m not dying, ya know.”

“We just wanted you to have something pretty to look at while you’re cooped up in here.” Marge said, taking the flowers and setting them on the counter in the room.

“Thank you very much, you guys. You didn’t have to do any of this for me.”

“Nonsense, Waylon! You’re like family to us. You’ve helped my kids through hard times and you’ve helped me through hard times and gave me some of the best advise I’ve ever been given. I’m back in college because of you, ya know.”

He grinned. “I’m happy to hear that’s working out for you, Marge, but know that you were the one who wanted it. I was the push, not the platform.”

She chuckled and nudged the compliment off. “Even if you hadn’t helped me directly, you helped both Lisa and Bart, you know.”

Bart rubbed his hands together. “I’m not fighting with Milhouse anymore.”

Grinning from ear-to-ear, Smithers chuckled. “You did that Bart, not me. I just gave you some advice, that’s all.”

The ten-year-old rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have taken that advice if Mom or Dad gave it to me. You’re like the uncle that Aunt Selma could never score.”

Smithers snickered. “That’s not nice to say about your auntie, Bart.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know her!” Bart stuck his tongue out in disgust at the thought of his aunt.

“You’ve helped me too if it’s any consolation, Mr. Smithers.” Lisa piped in. “I had a really hard time until I started listening to your Malibu Stacey podcasts, and while they aren’t the best in the world, I have people my age to talk to about something now.”

“That’s great, Lisa. Keep searching among those people and you might find a real friend. And if you don’t, just know it’s because you’re smart, and not everyone understands that.”

She smiled softly. “Thanks, Mr. Smithers.”

Just then, the door opened, and Ruth walked in, also holding a bouquet of flowers. “You should have seen that nurse, she’s as happy as a mouse. I was pulling my ID out and she looked at me like I was crazy and led me back without another word.” She set the daisies by the basket.

Smithers gave Burns a knowing look and snickered softly.

Ruth grinned and looked over at Marge. “So, what’s all going on here?”

“We’re telling Smithers about how much he helped us.” Lisa spoked up before her mom could, a grand smile still lacing her lips.

“Awh, well that’s easy. Because I taught you to dance, I could start a Dancing Class at the local gym. And I’m on a bowling team now.”

Smithers looked right away to Burns, nervous he’d be angry about the dance lessons, but the old man still was staring lovingly at him. “Thanks Ruth. I hope your class does well.”

“Yeah. It’s helped me with funds a lot. My daughter’s able to go to the mall now without feeling embarrassed for being unable to buy anything. I owe it to you, buddy.”

“You were always the cooler supervisor. No offense, Mr. Burns.” Homer chipped in, but Burns ignored the backhanded compliment and kept his eyes glued to his lover.

“Thanks, Homer.” Smithers smiled awkwardly at that one.

“You even babysat Maggie a few times. She always sleeps well after you leave.” Marge hummed happily, holding the sleeping baby closer to her.

“That’s nothin’. I’ve just always been good with babies.” Smithers said, grinning tiredly at the ceiling now. He didn’t have the heart to tell Marge that Maggie slept like a rock only when he played his ABBA cd for her.

“Could you guys leave the room for a minute, please?” Smithers asked suddenly, causing the family and guest to leave the room, leaving just Burns and Smithers in the suddenly colder-appearing room. “It’s going to be alright, Sir. Please don’t look so sad.”

Burns smiled gently, his cheeks still flushed from crying. “I’m sorry, I just hate seeing you being strapped down like this. It’s so unfitting for you. I’m supposed to be the one that looks weak all the time.”

Smithers reached his hand up to Burns’ cheek and caressed it, pulling the other down so their faces were inches apart. “I don’t want to see you weak as much as you don’t want to see me weak, Sir.” The other sniffled lightly, causing the other to coo and kiss Burns tenderly. When he pulled away, he lay the head of the other on his chest. “I love you, Monty. Don’t worry so much, okay? I’ll be alright.”

Slowing his breaths to match Smithers, Burns mumbled in reply. “I love you, too. And you can bet I’m going to hurt that Richard when I see him again.”

“Sir, remember Louie says he can’t know that we knew.”

Burns growled. “I’m going to make him pay somehow, alright? If I must explain what happened to Fat Tony myself, I will.”

Whimpering a bit, Smithers traced his fingers around the top of Burns head. “Just please don’t get yourself hurt.”

“I won’t, Smithers. I promise. If…if seeing you this way would hurt you the same way if it were me, I won’t. I couldn’t hurt you like that.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Smithers purred, ignoring the nurse that came in.

“Sir, can you please get off my patient?” The nurse asked politely, a clipboard in her arms.

“I suppose. For how long?” Burns asked, causing Smithers to snicker, nuzzling against the top of his lover’s head.

“Long enough for me to take his vitals. It’s crucial to him getting better, Sir.”

Grudgingly, the old man stood up, squeezing the other’s hand once before sitting in the chair in the corner of the room.

“Sir, you’ll also have to leave the room, please.” The nurse ordered, causing the old man to let out a lovesick sigh.

“Fine, but I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

The woman nodded and waited until he was out of the room to start her work.

The minute she left the room, the old man dashed in and back over to his lover. “The Simpsons family had to leave, dear. They said they’re excited to see you heal.” He placed a card from the family next to the flowers and once again knelt next to Smithers, resting his head on his chest. “I’ve went ahead and called Fat Tony. I’ll be meeting with him next week.”

“Can I go with you, Sir?” Smithers asked softly, kissing the top of Burns’ head.

Humming in thought, Burns looked up at the other. “I suppose. Fat Tony isn’t the nice guy, but I think he’ll be fine with it if I brought you along.” Sighing happily, he went on. “I also called Louie, and he said Richard will have an angry voicemail on his phone later today from an unknown number.”

Snickering, Smithers gripped the other’s hand. “Sir, you’re so sweet.”

Letting out a mischievous snicker himself, Burns kissed the other softly. “I’d do anything for you.” Yawning, the old man stood up, went to the chair in the corner, and dragged it so it was directly beside the hospital bed. “I’m going to stay in here with you. If those pesky nurses come back, they’ll have to drag me out.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Smithers said softly, holding the other’s hand as Burns slinked down into the chair and yawned again. Biting his lip, Smithers scooted to the side, patting the part beside him. “I know the bed isn’t huge, Sir, but you can lay down with me, ya know.”

Humming, Burns looked at the door. “Won’t the nurses yell at you if I do that?”

“To hell with them. I didn’t get to cuddle with you last night because of them.”

Smirking, Burns crawled into the small hospital bed and held gently onto the other. “I missed you, too, Waylon.”

Within minutes, the older man had fallen asleep, and within an hour, Smithers dozed off with him. Sure enough, they were both scolded hours later, but it was worth it.

A week later, and Smithers was back home in the Burns manor, dressing up yet again to meet with Fat Tony. “Are you sure you want to tell Fat Tony?”

“Yes, I am certain.” Burns kissed the other’s cheek. “I’m not going to let that stuck-up rube get away with hurting you. He could have killed you, so I won’t forgive him.”

“But are you sure asking Fat Tony for help is a good idea?”

Cupping Smithers’ face in his hands, Burns shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know if it’s a good idea or not, but I’m willing to try anything to keep you safe…and to get a little revenge.”

Snickering, Smithers leaned forward and kissed Burns gently, backing away. “The car is ready when you are, Sir.”

Half-an-hour later and the two sat across from Fat Tony himself, in his lounge room. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”

“I need someone taken care of.” Burns said, tittering his hands together. Smithers squeezed his leg, and the older man added on. “Arrested, specifically.”

Fat Tony took a long sip of his drink and thought. “Matters who.”

Leaning forward a bit, Burns face became a bit more sinister. “Do you know of a rich Texan man by the name of Richard?”

Nearly spitting out his drink, Fat Tony sat his glass down. “What did he do this time?”

“He poisoned and nearly killed my Smithers.”

“Your… Smithers...?” Fat Tony had a confused expression on his face,

“I mean my assistant, Smithers.” He motioned to the man beside him.

“Hmm…that man is always causing problems. He’s scammed me numerous times, and he’s threatened some of my lackeys as well.” Tony scratched at his face, his expression deep and thoughtful. “He even threatened my son once. I only let him get away with it because he moved away. But not that he’s back and causing problems again…”

“I have reason to believe he threatened Louie as well.” Smithers added, causing the already angry-appearing man to nearly shatter his glass.

“He did, did he? Give me a moment.” The mob boss rang a bell that set by his drink, and in came a young man with a vest on. “Fetch Louie for me.”

Within minutes, the young man came into the room, a frustrated expression on his face when he saw Smithers and Burns sitting in the room. “Louie, is it true that Big Rich was the one who poisoned Burns’ assistant?”

A betrayed expression on the man’s face as he gazed over at the couple, he shook his head. “No, Sir, it was the—“

“Nonsense, Louie. Did he or did he not?”

Gritting his teeth together, the other man looked to the ground. “He did, Sir, but—“

“And did he threaten you as well?”

A bit taken aback, the lackey looked at his boss. “Excuse me, Sir?”

“Did he hurt you, Louie?” The boss’ tone was a bit softer, and Smithers nudged Burns’ in the side, as if to say, ‘they’re like us,’ before the standing assistant nodded slowly.

“Yes Sir, he did threaten me.”

“How so? What did he say to you?” In a thoughtful trance, the boss rubbed his face again.

“Said if I squealed he’d beat me like a pig.”

Silence overcame the group and Fat Tony cracked his knuckles. “Alright. It’s settled then. I’ll have him arrested tonight. Care to set him up, Burnsie?”

“I’d be delighted. I have some errands to run later today, anyway.”

With an evil smirk, Burns stood up and left the room, Smithers following, Louie stopping him on the way out. “Hey, how’d you end up with your boss? Any tips?”

Smithers thought for a moment and wrote a blog name down before handing it to the other, leaving the building with his love, leaving Louie staring at the words ‘lgbtwhisperer626’.

“What all errands do we have, Sir?” Smithers asked the moment they were in the car, causing Burns to smile.

“I was thinking of giving that poor manager some money. The one from the Gilded Truffle, you know him.”

“Sir, that’s so nice of you.”

“It’s not nice, just…fair.” Burns crossed his arms and gazed out the window.

An hour later and they pulled into the driveway of an unfamiliar fancy restaurant, where they had planned to meet Louie and Richard again.

Noticing the other was a bit nervous, Burns held tightly to Smithers’ hand, making sure to hold it close to him the entire walk to their seats.

As the two sat down, Burns pulled out the poker set this time and recommended a game. Quickly, Smithers lost his hand and held tightly onto Burns, aiding him with his. At one point, Richard made a gagging motion at the two again, but this time, Smithers nudged Burns slightly and made him look up, stopping the Texan dead in his tracks.

“I will not make deals with people that mock us.”

Surprised, the Texan looked at his hands. “I wasn’t…mocking you, I was just pointing out that your PDA is a bit…over the top.”

Rolling his eyes and smirking suddenly, Burns gazed at Smithers, cupping his face in his hands. “Don’t listen to him, Smithers. Mr. three-times-divorced-and-a-half is just jealous that he can’t have PDA.” He kissed Smithers lovingly, making the Texan glower in anger.

“Now, look, Burnsie, I’m happy to do deals with you, but you should stop bringing your little sugar baby. I don’t want to see you too slobbering all over each other the whole time I’m playing poker.”

“Ya better watch your mouth, Rich.” Louie said suddenly, poking roughly at the Texan’s chest. “I’m sure my boss won’t like you talking about his best customers that way.”

Gulping, the Texan looked at his hand. “Never mind that, let’s get back to playing.”

“Actually,” Burns spoke up, looking at his nails. “How about we talk for a minute?”

Rolling his eyes, the man crossed his arms. “What about?”

“Do you know what Borax is, Richard?” Burns asked, causing the man to tense up slightly.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, last week during our little business fiasco, my dear Smithers drank water that had some dissolved in it, and while I initially blamed the restaurant,” he tightened his grip around Smithers, “I had them all checked, and no one had any. But, you left your coat behind, didn’t you, Rich?”

Suddenly realizing what was happening, the Texan man rose to his feet. “Look, you don’t have any proof of me doing that.”

“Actually, there was a witness.”

Louie stood up and blew a kiss at the Texan, as the sound of sirens approached outside. “Sorry, Rich, you brought this on ya self. And my boss doesn’t want your filthy business scams.”

“I warned you, Louie.” The bigger man warned, reaching forward and strangling the other. Right away, Smithers leaped forward and pulled Louie away, guarding his boss and the other man behind him.

Rolling up his sleeve, Smithers revealed his arm that was surely more filled with muscle than Richard’s. “Don’t touch them. You’re going to prison, Richard; give it up.”

Angrily, Richard grabbed a glass off the table and smashed it on top of Smithers’ head, causing the other to pass out instantly. Noticing what he did, Richard tried to flee, but a gun pointed at his chest stopped him.

“You’ve hurt my Smithers more than once now. Don’t move or I’ll shoot.”

The Texan stood in place this time, muttering insults under his breath as the police entered the restaurant.

“Yeah, you’re doing big time, Richard. We saw those tax documents.” Wiggum said, handcuffing the Texan and looking down at the unconscious man. “When did this happen?”

“Just a minute ago,” Burns said, putting his gun away and crouching down, holding Smithers’ head in his lap.

Sighing, Wiggum spoke into his dispatcher. “Yeah, I need an ambulance at the scene.”

“No need for that.” Louie said, waving away the order. “Hey Legs, get over here!”

Another mafia member crawled out from under a table a few tables over, holding his first aid kit. He knelt and examined the small bump on Smithers head, nodding.

“He’ll be fine in a few hours. Jus’ make sure he takes a shower later and washes it, and it won’t get infected. If it hurts too much, have ‘im put pressure on it and have ‘im rest.” The mob doctor replied, Burns sucking up every word like a sponge.

“Of course, we’ll be leaving now.” Burns mumbled, attempting to lift the other, causing Legs and Louie to exchange a look before picking the unconscious Smithers themselves, carrying him to the car.

“Ya need a ride home?” Louie asked, and Burns nodded.

Louie clambered into the front seat and drove Burns and Smithers home, with Legs driving after them. Once they were in and Smithers was laying down, Louie left in Legs car, leaving the two alone.

Saddened by his lover’s pain, Burns curled up and fell asleep on Smithers’ extended arm.

A week later, and Smithers felt back to normal, and the two once again stood in the mirror, readying themselves in formal wear.

“I hope this new businessman is better than the last.” Smithers mumbled, doing up his bowtie.

“Anyone would be better than him.” Burns mumbled, and Smithers agreed.

Once they arrived at the new, reopened Gilded Truffle, the two sat down with Louie and waited for what felt like twenty minutes before no other than Ruth Powers entered the door, surprising the group.

“Hey, so ya remember my business? Well it’s really successful, and I’m needing to make some affiliations.” The woman said, pulling out a poker set. “But first, how about we play some good ol’ poker?”

Snickering, the group nodded and played poker, enjoying the evening for once in what felt like months. 


	4. My Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burns has a very important question to ask Smithers....

Time passed by, and sooner than they noticed, Burns and Smithers had been together for a year. It was a Friday night when the question was going to be asked, and the two were eating dinner at some fancy restaurant that Smithers couldn’t pronounce the name of. Normally, they had double dates; either with Marge and Homer, Moe and Julio, Lenny and Carl, or even Marge and Ruth, when Homer was too drunk to show up. But this time, Burns made sure none of them could come, or at least that’s what Smithers assumed.

Little did the assistant know what was really happening. The Simpsons family, Ruth, Lenny, Carl, Moe, Julio, and the rest of the friends they had made over the years, were all in the restaurant, their dinner paid for by Burns himself. Tonight was going to special, because Burns was ready to ask Smithers to marry him.

So far, everything was going perfectly; they had small talk, a lovely meal, and Burns was ready to send in the band; And, of course, only now did Smithers start to feel ill. A bit crestfallen, but still wanting to focus on his love, Burns stood up and went to the other side of the table with his chair, sitting next to his partner, holding him closely. “Do you want to go home?”

Smithers nodded gently and winced at another shot of pain that shot through his stomach.

“Alright, dear. Let’s go lay down then, eh?”

A few minutes later and someone arrived to drive them home, with Smithers wincing in the backseat the entire time. Burns rubbed small circles on the other’s back, trying his best to make the other feel more relaxed.

The minute they got home, Smithers raced straight to the restroom, emptying his stomach into the toilet. When he couldn’t vomit anymore, he grabbed a change of clothes and hopped into the shower. Once he was done, he lay down in their bedroom and stared at the ceiling, still clenching at his stomach in pain. Burns brought a bucket to the side of the other’s bed, laying down next to his lover, rubbing circles on his arm. Burns hollered for one of the staff members and had them bring in a fan, bring them water, and turn the light off.

Though it was only 5:00 pm, Burns made sure that Smithers fell asleep quickly by cuddling with the poor soul. When he finally dozed off, Burns brushed his fingers across Smithers forehead and hummed for a minute, before whispering in a voice that he assumed Smithers wouldn’t hear, “I was going to ask you to marry me tonight.”

However, the assistant did hear, and his eyes shot open like rockets, gazing through the darkness at his partner. “What was that, Sir?”

Sighing, Burns stood up and went over to his jacket, bringing a small velvet box out of it. Crouching next to the bed, Burns opened the box gingerly and presented what had to be a 3.00 carat diamond ring, at least. “I was going to ask at the restaurant, but...will you make me even happier than you already have and do the honor of marrying me?”

Wincing in pain the moment the words left Burns mouth, he hunched over the side of the bed and vomited in excitement into his bucket.

Sarcastically, Burns put one hand on his hip. “Gee, my proposal wasn’t _that_ bad.”

Still wincing, Smithers wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Of course, Sir! Gosh, I’m sorry for getting sick and ruining your proposal.”

“Nonsense, you can’t control getting sick. We can stage another proposal when you feel better, anyway. Until then, do you want to see the ring?”

Nodding, Smithers held out his hand and let the other slide it on with care. “Sir, it’s beautiful...Monty, how much did you pay for this?”

Shrugging, the other man looked lovingly at Smithers’ hand. “I’d rather not say.”

Stifling a chuckle, Smithers grew bashful. “You need to stop spending so much money for me.”

“Well, if we’re going to get married, fair warning that I will spend dozens of thousands of dollars on you.” Burns kissed the other hand, causing him to chuckle again.

“Fine, but I’m spending money on you, too.” A smirk on his face as he carefully slid the ring off and put in the box. “Now, come here and cuddle with me more. I still feel ill.”

“My poor baby.” Burns cooed, swooping in behind the other and kissing the back of his neck. “Let’s both go back to sleep this time.”

And this time, they did. At 10:00 pm, Smithers woke up feeling quite a bit better, though now he felt hungry. After all, he puked up his dinner early in the night. Standing up, he picked his bucket up and went to clean it, taking another shower when he was done. Afterwards, he slid on some pajamas and gently shook Burns awake.

“Hey dear, I’m going down to the kitchen to heat something up. You hungry?”

Burns smiled softly through the darkness and nodded, yawning. “I’m coming down with you. How much better are ya feeling?”

“Like new.” Smithers kissed the top of Burns’ head, bringing him to his feet. “So, you said you wanted to stage another proposal?”

“Of course I do, but this time, since you already know, I was thinking we could throw a party. Then, at the end of the night…” Burns walked his two main fingers up Smithers’ arm flirtatiously. “I strike and pop the question.” Placing a quick kiss on Smithers lips, the old man stood and looped their arms together, walking down the stairs and to the kitchen together.

“That sounds so romantic, Sir.” Smithers said in a dreamy voice, calling for one of the chefs, dishing out a quick order of noodles.

Burns rolled his eyes and looked up at the other, love in his eyes. “Ya know what? I don’t care if the staff knows anymore.”

“Well, Sir, we’ve been sleeping in the same bed, kissing, and we’re going to be getting married. I’m sure they’ve put the pieces together.” Smithers snickered. 

Burns chuckled as well, not noticing that they were so obvious. “I guess you’re right.”

So, Sir, about the wedding…” Smithers cooed, a loving look on his face. “What exactly will we be doing for it?”

“Hmmm…Well, first things first, it will be huge.” Burns said, wrapping his arms around the other.

Smithers chuckled. “Alright, I like the sound of a big wedding. What else?”

“Well, it all matters how soon you want to get married, I suppose. Anytime is alright with me, as long as we’re completely prepared.”

“I’m alright with anytime as well, Monty. So, is a month from now enough time?” Smithers purred, cupping the other’s head in his hand.

“Just the right amount.” Burns said thoughtfully, not noticing the groggy staff member preparing their noodle bowls. “We have so much to plan for. I know I’m old, but thinking about this kind of thing makes me feel young again. You keep me feeling young.”

“Awh, Sir…” Smithers hummed, his eyes lidded with love and how tired he was. “You keep me feeling loved.”

The two nuzzled noses and stayed in the moment for what felt like an eternity before a staff member tapped their shoulder. “Your snack is done, Mr. Burns, Mr. Smithers.”

The couple nodded and grabbed their bowls, devouring the food within a few minutes. Once they finished, the two retired back to bed.

A week later, and they were ready for the party. Burns was wearing a fancy white suit, and Smithers wore one of maroon. When the two arrived, there was still quite a lot of prep needed, but the Simpson family waited, ready to help. The group started to string up banners in the ballroom where they first danced, and it didn’t take long for the bartender to arrive and set up his drinks. The pale yellow and gold room was dressed in silver and white, and Smithers couldn’t help but stare in awe at the architecture, and Burns stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist. “It’s almost time, my dear.” Burns whispered, causing Smithers to smile.

“I’m so happy this is going to happen.” Smithers whispered, putting a gentle hand on top of Burns, leaning back into him. “I love you so much, Monty.”

“I love you too, dear. People will be arriving soon. Are you ready?”

Smithers nodded and hugged the arms around him tightly. “I’m so excited.”

A few minutes later, and sure enough, the guests had arrived. The music was loud, and Smithers looked out upon the numerous dancing couples, his eyes stopping on Marge Simpson, who sat sadly on a bench. Curious, Smithers joined her seat and placed a gentle hand on her back.

“Oh, you’re so lucky, Smithers. Your man pays attention to you.” Marge hummed sadly, gazing sadly over at Homer, who was of course, sitting at the standup bar, chugging away.

“Ya know, Marge, maybe…” he looked over and saw Ruth staring in their direction. “maybe you should take Burns and I’s relationship as a sign that it’s never too late to find new love.”

Marge cried out and wiped her eyes. “I don’t know, Smithers, I’m a woman with three kids who no matter how many times I try to leave, I always end up returning to my husband, who cares more about a can of beer than me. I don’t think I could handle it, I mean…what would the kids think of me?” She looked sadly down at her hands.

“Well, how about you think about that later?” He patted her back softly, and she glanced up at him through teary eyes. “For now, enjoy the night. I think there’s someone who wants to dance with you.”

“Who?” Marge asked, and Smithers nudged her, making her look in his line of sight, Ruth taking up her vision. “Oh, are you sure? I don’t think she wants to dance with me.”

Rolling his eyes, Smithers stood up and called Ruth over. The other woman approached the two, and right away took note of Marge’s outfit. “I gotta say Margey, you look beautiful in that dress of yours.”

Elbowing Marge in the side, he motioned toward the other woman. Nervously, Marge rubbed her hands together. “Oh, thank you, Ruth. Um…would you like to dance?”

A genuine smile broke out on the brunette’s face. “I thought you’d never ask.” With one swift motion, she pulled Marge toward her, pulling her toward the dance floor.

Smiling at the two, Smithers searched a bit and found his Monty, pulling him to the dancefloor as well. Though the music was much more fast-paced than Burns was used to, he struggled through and enjoyed dancing with Smithers so carelessly. Once they were finished with dancing, Burns pulled Smithers to the side and decided it was time. Pausing the music suddenly, Burns grabbed ahold of the microphone that was close to the music player and cleared his throat.

“You’re probably all wondering the meaning of this party…” The room quieted down and the dancing stopped, turning all eyes to the old man. “Well, this party was thrown because I have a very important question for the love of my life.”

People in the room gasped, and Smithers slowly walked over to the other, his eyes glossed over in a dreamlike trance. Once Smithers was in front of him, Burns gently grabbed the other’s hand and knelt, still holding the microphone to the best of his ability. “Waylon Smithers Junior, we’ve been dating for over a year now, and you have made my life a living dream. While my days may be few, I wish to spend the rest of them loving you. Waylon, will you do me the honors of being my husband?”

Even though he already knew that the question was coming, Smithers couldn’t help but tear up. “Of course, my dear.” He squeaked out, collapsing to the floor and kissing the other frantically, causing the other to chuckle for a minute before returning the kiss.

Once the two pulled apart, Burns slid the glorious ring onto Smithers’ finger, kissing him tenderly. “You’re the love of my life, Waylon.”

“And you’re the love of mine, Monty.” Just saying the words sent Smithers back into happy tears. Slowly he stood up, bowing slightly. “May I have this dance?”

Chuckling, Burns just took his arm and twirled him back to the dancefloor, where somebody had turned a much lower love song on. Curious, Smithers glanced over at the CD Player, only to see Lisa and her little girlfriend smiling and waving. How sweet.

As the night died down and guests started to leave, only the Simpsons family and the guests they brought remained. Marge pulled at Smithers jacket and attracted his attention. “Have you two picked out a wedding date?”

“Margey, they just got engaged, give ‘em some time.” Ruth snickered, elbowing Marge in the side lightly, making the other woman chuckle.

“We don’t really have a date, but we’re just going to get everything perfectly ready and then marry.” Smithers said, still eyeing his ring.

“That must be one of the most beautiful rings I’ve ever seen, Waylon.” Marge said, marveling at the size of the diamonds. “Oh, you two are so good for each other. I’m so happy you worked out together.”

“Me too, Marge. And to think I would still be in a depressing loop of loving him in silence if it wasn’t for that strange blogger.” Smithers shook his head and chuckled. “I wish I could thank them. They live in Springfield, but they never use their real name online, so I don’t know where to start.”

Humming, Marge nodded in agreement. “Why don’t you just trace their IP address?”

Sighing, Smithers shook their head. “I wouldn’t feel right doing that. Anyway, I was hoping it’d be okay to ask Lisa to be the little flower-girl.”

“Oh, that will make her so happy, Waylon!” Marge cheered, looking over at her daughter, who was rambling about something to Jessica, flailing her arms cheerfully.

“I don’t know how much Bart will want to be, but I also wanted to ask him to be our ring bearer.”

Marge grinned. “Doesn’t Mr. Burns have anyone in mind? I’m sure Bart would love to, but it seems like you’re picking out quite a few people.”

Chuckling, Smithers looked over at his love, who was snacking on some of the food from the buffet. “I’ll talk it over with him before asking anyone, but he doesn’t have many relatives, and aside from you guys, he doesn’t talk to many other people.” Smithers shook a sad look off his face. “You guys being around has helped him a lot, ya know.”

Marge grinned whole-heartedly. “We’re happy to help.” She sighed at the sight of her drunk husband stumbling toward her. “I’ve got to go. You two have a lovely evening!”

“Thanks, and get home safe!” Smithers called after the group as they all started to go outside and clamber into cars. Now that they were alone, Smithers swooped over to Burns and lifted him up, twirling him around. “Oh, Monty, that was wonderful.”

Burns snickered affectionately and held tightly onto the other’s shoulders. “Everything did go wonderfully. The whole night I was expecting something to mess up, but nothing did. Not that I noticed, anyway.” Slowly, Smithers set the other down on his feet, gazing into his eyes.

“I can’t believe I’m actually going to get married.” Smithers whispered, causing Burns to coo and cup his face.

“Me neither, Waylon. I never thought someone could love me like this, especially not in my old age. But you proved me wrong.”

Tearing up again, Smithers pulled the other into another kiss before breaking apart and staring at him. “Let’s get home, dear.”

Burns nodded, yawning. “I’m ready to cuddle up with my handsome man for the night.”

Giggling, Smithers clenched at Burns arm as he led him to the car.

A few weeks later, as they were choosing suits and making the invitations, Smithers stopped in his tracks, staring at the cards. “Hey, Monty, can you come here real quick?”

“Yes, dear?” Burns asked, curiously looking down at the sheet.

“Should I invite my mom and step dad?” Smithers worriedly stared at the sheet. “I kind of want to, but I’m scared they won’t be happy with me if they know the truth.”

Sighing, Burns set down across from the other. “Well, how about we test them? We could call them up and tell them we’re romantically involved, and then see how they react to that.”

Nodding in appraisal at the idea, Smithers pulled his cellphone out his pocked and started to dial a familiar number, biting his lip as it rang. Once someone answered, Smithers set his phone down and clicked for it to go to speaker phone. A voice sounded on the other end. “Hello?”

“Hello, mom.” Smithers said calmly, clenching at Burns’ hand for support.

“Waylon! It’s been months since you’ve called.” His mother’s voice easily put a weight on his heart.

“I know, but I’ve got some news for you.” Smithers heard his mother squeal on the other side of the phone.

“Have you finally gotten a girlfriend?”

Rolling his eyes, Smithers leaned against Burns. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean, Waylon, by not exactly?” She sighed sadly. “Do you not have a girlfriend?”

“No, Mom, I don’t have a girlfriend. In fact, I have a boyfriend, and he means the world to me.”

He could hear how tired she was, but pushed the conversation forward anyway. “Would you like to come meet him?”

After a moment, her voice rang throughout the phone. “That sounds lovely. You must love him an awful lot. I can tell by how you’re talking.”

“I do love him an awful lot. I’m sure you’ll love him. How does Sunday sound?”

“Perfect. I’ll bring your step-father as well, alright?” His mother asked, and he nodded, though he knew she couldn’t see it.

“Thanks, Mom.”

After he clicked the phone call away, he looked over at Burns nervously. “Why did I invite them Sunday? I’m so nervous now.”

Cooing, Burns enveloped Smithers in his arms like a spider web. “No need to be nervous, my love. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

But, everything was not fine on Sunday.

The table was set, and the couple sat and waited for the assistant’s parents, clinging to each other for support. When they heard the door open, Smithers was prepared to stand up and take their coats, but Burns placed a comforting hand on Smithers and stopped him in his traps. “Don’t worry about that, someone else will take care of us tonight.”

Slowly, Smithers nodded and accepted the answer, looking up as his mother entered the doorway, her eyes a bit wide. “No one told me that you were dating your father’s old business partner. Slowly, Smithers nodded and held tightly onto the other’s hand.

“Yup! I started dating him a year ago,” Smithers cheered, causing his mother to cringe.

“Dear, can’t you at least find a younger man to love?” His stepfather asked this time, surprising the couple slightly.

“Look, I can’t choose who I love, and I love him.” Smithers defended, causing the other two to cringe. Seeing their reactions, Burns leaned over and placed a loving kiss on Smithers’ cheek, snickering at how the grown adults cringe again at the sight of the PDA.

“I suppose.” His mother poked her food with a fork. “But I do have some questions.”

“Like what?” Smithers asked sweetly, Burns grip on his hand tightening.

“How did you two end up dating?”

“The powers of online dating.” Smithers chuckled, causing Burns to snicker as well. “We both went to the same blog to get advice, and everything just pieced together.”

“And you said you’ve been together for a year now?” She asked, eyeing the two carefully.

“Yeah, a year and a month. Just a minute, I’ll be right back.” Smithers murmured, standing up and leaving to the restroom.

“So, why are you cradle robbing our son?” The mother asked, causing Burns to nearly choke on his lobster.

“Excuse me?” Burns tightened his tie and stared at the two in disbelief.

“Look, people with an age gap like yours aren’t really in love. What do you want from our Waylon? Do you find him attractive?” The woman snarled and stared the man down. Mr. Burns simply looked at her, shocked.

“I can assure you, I do love him, more than life itself, actually. I’m not…craddlerobbing him, and seeing as how your son is an adult able to make his own decisions in life, I literally can’t craddlerob him. And if you must know, _he_ confessed to _me.”_ Burns glared at the two now, tittering his hands together. “It’s no surprise Smithers was scared to invite you to the wedding.”

Burns didn’t realize what he said until he could read back to himself what was reflected on the duo’s faces. Smithers had just entered the room as well, and instantly clambered over to Burns, casting his arms over him as a protective shell. “What’s going on?”

“You’re…marrying him…?” His mother voiced out, and Smithers looked nervously at Burns and back to his parents. “I can’t believe this. My son is still a faggot and he’s marrying someone old enough to his grandfather.”

Right away, Smithers ran over to her, and attempted to grab her by the shoulder to stop her from moving, but she kept on walking until she had left the room. “Mom, _please,_ don’t do this to me again!” The poor man was now crying, and Burns had his arms draped over him like a curtain, cooing to him the entire time. “ _Mom.”_ Smithers sobbed, holding tightly onto Burns as he led him to one of the loveseats in the room to sit.

Smithers step-father gazed after his wife in disbelief. “Waylon.” The man spoke up suddenly, tiptoeing over to the crying individual on the couch, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m…I’m sorry she’s still like this. I’m incredibly proud of who you are, and I’m happy for you. I hope you can still have a happy wedding.”

Gazing up through his tears, Smithers cried out. “You’ll still come, won’t you?”

The man looked from his stepson to the doorway and then back to his son, smiling softly. “Of course, I’ll be there for you.”

Sniffling, the crying man stood up and tightly hugged the other. “Thanks, Dad.”

After a minute, more of hugging, the man headed toward the door as well. “I’ll try talking to her, but you know how stubborn she can be.”

Nodding solemnly, Smithers sat back down with Burns and waited until they were alone to speak. “Why did you tell them?”

“Dear, please understand that I didn’t mean to.”

Smithers just stared blankly, shaking his head. “Look, I’m tired now. I’m going to go to sleep, and then we can talk about this in the morning, alright?”

Nodding slowly, Burns slowly let go of Smithers’ hands and let the other stand up, quickly hurrying off to the bedroom. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, Burns called for a member of the staff to clean up the mess and followed Smithers. When he opened the bedroom door, he found Smithers sitting on the bed, gazing down at the ring that he held in-between his fingers. “Darling?”

Smithers ignored the pet-name and kept his eyes on the ring. “Maybe we shouldn’t be getting married just yet.”

“Smithers, please…” Burns felt himself starting to tear up at those words, and within a minute he was crying softly, sitting next to Smithers.

“If you can’t wait until I’m back in the room to go telling my parents the one thing I didn’t want them to know, how can I trust you to do anything?” Smithers hid his face in his hands. “I thought I could trust you, Sir, but you told them.” 

With a deep breath, Burns sat down next to the other and slid his arms around him. “Please, darling, let me explain.”

Smithers nodded slowly, refusing to look at the other. “Fine.”

“Your mother was insisting that we didn’t love each other when you left the room, Dear. She kept calling me a craddlerobber and saying that we couldn’t be in love.” Burns pulled the sycophant’s glasses of, gazing down at him as his expression started to change.

“I’m so sorry, Sir. I…I still want to marry you, I just really wish my mother would be happy with me for once.” Smithers sobbed into Burns’ chest, but the older man didn’t mind, and spent his time running his hands through Smithers’ hair, cooing to him gently, until the other had stopped crying.

When Smithers finally ran out of tears, he gazed up at the other with love in his eyes. “Sir, can you put the ring on my finger again?”

Burns nodded and slid the jewels back into their place, kissing Smithers’ head in the process. “Now, do you feel any better?”

Smithers nodded, still holding tightly to Burns. “Yes, but you can’t make me move from where I am. I’m going to nap right here, right now.”

Snickering, Burns brushed another hair from Smithers face and laid down himself. “Very well.”

A month later, and the big day had arrived. Nervously, Smithers toyed at his tie in front of the mirror. “Are you sure this one is alright, Marge? I could go grab the other one, we still have— “

“Shush, shush, you look fine, Waylon.” Marge snickered, looking at her friend in the mirror. “Now, now, it’s time for you to get out there!”

With a shove, Smithers went into the room and stared from behind the door. As everyone reclaimed their positions and their seats, Smithers started to walk down the aisle with his stepfather—it was decided that he would be the one to walk down the aisle as Burns’ father was passed away and he also had a bad relationship with his mother. As Smithers reached the arch, he couldn’t help but start to cry softly in joy again. Lisa had been the flower girl, Bart had been the ring bearer, and Homer had someone snuck a piece of the cake already, so everything was in place and perfect, like he wanted.

The minister went through the standard reading process, and Smithers completely broke down as he said ‘I do.’ Quickly, Smithers kissed Burns with a fiery passion, tears streaming down his face in gleeful joy. Both had held a bouquet, and funny enough, while Marge had caught one of them, the other one slammed into the cake. Normally, this would ruin a wedding, but another cake was pulled out from the kitchen as if this was predicted to happen. 

After shoving cake into each other’s faces, dancing, and collecting the marriage gifts, the party was closing to an end, and once again, the older couple was left alone. Snickering, Smithers lifted his lover up bridal style and twirled around, dipping him in a kiss in the process. After their excellent wedding, the two drove home in comfortable silence, and as Smithers carried Burns over the threshold, both let out a laugh. Smithers set Burns down in their bed and lay next to him, the two kissing tenderly and whispering sweet words to each other, when Smithers started to laugh again.

“What’s so funny, dear?” 

“Well, I was just thinking of how tired I am, but I’m already living my dream, so what’s the point in sleeping?” 

Burns snickered as well, kissing the other gingerly as he rested against his chest. “You’re my dream, too, Waylon.” And like a light, they were out.


	5. Retired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burns and Smithers are growing old, and they reflect on their life in Springfield as they retire.

Slowly, time passed by. Burns and Smithers were even older than when they first married, and it showed; the world was growing old with them. The Simpsons kids were all adults and a teenager now, and neither of them could be more proud as they watched Lisa earn her master's diploma and Bart score a job working construction. Little Maggie had also grown fond of her uncles’ attention, and had taken up guitar lessons last spring. Whenever it drove her parents mad, she drove over to the Burns Manor and was always welcome to practice in a backroom where she couldn’t be heard.

On this very day, she was over, and was sitting with her uncles’, listening to their day. The girl could hear them fine, but never could speak, so she had a friend with her. Whenever she signed something, her friend would translate her signs into speech. Smithers could swear he had seen the kid before--he had starch red hair and large freckles dotting his face ungracefully, and something about his thick Italian accent sounded familiar, but he was never able to lay a finger on it. They always called the kid Gino, but they never did ask for his last name.

Leaning against the back of her seat, Maggie signed out how her day had been, and Gino watched with care before telling the two older men that Maggie’s day had been ‘alright, but mom and Homer hollered at her for causing too much racket this evening, so that’s why she came over.’

Burns and Smithers were of course delighted to have the girl over, and it made for good bonding time with their own grandchildren and child. That is, Larry’s two little girls, who were growing up wonderfully themselves, and their own little 4-year old son, Dion, or “Diamond” as Burns called him.

Before Dion was in the picture, Burns and Smithers had considered adopting a child themselves, but somewhere along the lines that idea was smudged out and not brought up again; but little Dion was left on their porch, with a letter talking about how some young mother had died, and the father couldn’t handle raising the child, but knew of the billionaire, and hoped Burns would handle it. At the time, the boy was 2, and some information about him was left in the letter, such as his name, which was Chuck before they formally took him in, and his birthday, which was on none other than the fourth of July.

Their two grandkids, Monica and Cassie, were delighted to have an uncle, even if he was a baby, but the two agreed to call him their brother instead.

Little Monica, or “Money” as Burns called her, was just turning thirteen this year, and the sweet scent of rebellion was in the air for her, as she came over to her grandparents’ house much more often than she was home. She was really taking a shine to her “auntie Maggs”, and sat on the couch by her younger sister now, drinking a Coca-Cola.

Her younger sister Cassie, or “Cash” also had a rebellious soul, but more so in the sense of Lisa, who was her favorite ‘auntie’ when she did get to see her occasionally. Like Lisa, she had become a vegetarian at a young age, and was only turning nine now, but already she had a voice ready to fight and a soul meant for standing. At the moment, the girl was holding a miniature Malibu Stacey, tossing the doll playfully from hand-to-hand.

Soon, the moon was in the sky, and Maggie and her friend departed to the Simpson home, where Gino had been staying in Bart’s room for the time being. Little Money, Cash, and Diamond had settled down for the night in their pajamas, watching an old movie in one of the guest rooms that the girls always stayed in. Burns and Smithers took this time to stand on the balcony, overlooking the town below them as most of it slept. Burns gently leaned against the other, relaxing in the warm evening air. They really were getting old, and it scared him. Smithers seemed to have the same thought, as he wrapped his arms around the other and cradled him. “It’s going to be alright, Monty. There’s still time left.”

A few weeks later, and it was time for Bart’s wedding. The flustered young man stood in the mirror and looked back with care at his uncles. “Oh, I don’t know if I can do this. We’ve only been dating for five years, maybe we should wait.”

Smithers chuckled and helped Bart do up his tie. “You’ve been dating for five years _and_ you have a son together, Bart. You’re going to be fine.”

“Smithers and I married after a year of dating, and everything worked out wonderfully for us. You’re going to be alright.” Burns comforted the other, knowing that his entire evil aura had been weakening and instead became a ‘slightly bitter man’ aura.

Taking a deep breath, Bart nodded. “You’re right. Thanks, uncle Smithers, uncle Burns. You guys have helped me so much over the years.”

And, it was true; as a teen, the young Bart was scared to tell his parents about his relationship for the longest time. At the time, of course, it was not with his marriage partner, but Bashir, a boy at his school that he had been friends with for a while. On Friday nights, Burns and Smithers would take the boys to town and let them run off and have their fun while they were under their watchful eyes. And on Saturdays, they would let Bart come over and talk about his week, which helped the teen with his self-esteem. The night Bart had come out to his parents, he had hurried over to his uncles’ house, and was sobbing by the time he got there. Knowing this wasn’t a normal occurrence, Burns and Smithers pulled the boy inside and let him call his parents after an hour of calming down. When he found that they weren’t upset, he went home, not feeling full of shame for once in a long time. And even later than that, when he has first started dating Milhouse, he came to them for advice, and they gave him the same advice that worked for them so many years ago.

And now, they were ready to see him get married. The two older men took their seat and watched the ceremony in both awe and surprise; they didn’t know that to avoid a bridal march the couple had picked out heavy metal.

After the wedding, the older couple returned home, and once again, Smithers wrapped his arms around Burns as they overlooked the ever-growing town, whispering that everything was going to be alright, and there was still plenty of time.

Next, Lisa got married. Like Bart, they had helped her through some of the tough years of coming to terms with herself, but they weren’t able to help much with the fact that the girl she was enamored with was of another religion. Neither Burns nor Smithers really believed in a god of any sort, but they tried their best anyway to help. Either way, she appreciated it, and they could tell she appreciated their generous wedding gift of bank account for the newlyweds. The only thing they didn’t quite understand was why the wedding was held outside in the heat, but they still appreciated it as they watched her marry Jessica Lovejoy.

Then, one night, Smithers went out to feed the last hound like he did every night, only to find the animal had passed away. Sadly, he called his love into the shed and they held each other as a staff member moved the late animal out of its home and into a small coffin. Neither of them noticed until the next day how much it affected them, when Smithers went out to feed the animal and Burns took Dion out to spend time with the hound. The two once again stood on the balcony, looking over the world, their breath slowly mingling in the air. Smithers longed to say that everything was alright and there still was time like he usually did, but he couldn’t find the words.

A week later, and Lisa brought a little surprise over for the family of three; a Doberman puppy. Lisa left as quickly as she came, leaving the typical-puppy care items on the table. At first, Burns and Smithers just stared at the animal. Both were shocked at the gesture, or at least at it happening so quickly, even though they put on a grateful guise until Lisa left. She apparently did the same thing for Bart when his dog had passed away, so they assumed she meant well, but neither Burns nor Smithers felt ready or prepared for the baby animal to arrive. Little Dion, on the other hand, was excited to have a puppy in the house, so returning the animal was out of the question. As the boy fell asleep curled up with his dog, Burns and Smithers rested in their loveseat by the fire, their hands tied together. When the boy woke, he announced that the dog was named Elvis Princess as the boy proudly fed the dog with the help of one of the staff members.

A year later, and Burns was sent to the hospital after falling at work. While he felt fine, the doctor made it a point that Burns shouldn’t work anymore, and the old man fought and fought and finally calmed down when his husband and young son entered the room.

Tenderly, the old man held both of their hands on one side of the bed, brushing his hands over his son’s face, his voice quiet and sweet. “Papa will be out soon, alright? He’s just in here for…for a little while.”

The little boy nodded slowly, fear still covering his freckles. He had no clue how long that would be, but he wanted to be strong for his Papa. “Daddy, can we stay here until the mean doctors let him out?”

Chuckling, Smithers rustled his son’s blue hair. “Of course, we can.”

Burns scoffed. “But my little diamond, you’ll be starting school in two weeks. You don’t want to miss that, do you?”

“You can’t be in here for that long! How will you eat dinner?” Seriously nervous about his father’s eating habits, the little boy climbed into the bed with his father, holding onto him desperately. “Promise you’ll come home before I go to school.”

Nervously, Burns and Smithers shared a long glance before Burns hugged his son back. “I…promise.”

Smithers nodded and left the room, grabbing one of the nurses by the sleeve and pulling him out of the room. Dion glanced out of the room, watching the shadow of his father and the nurse talking in hushed voices. Curling up in his father’s arms, the little boy started to cry. “I’m scared, Papa. Why do the doctors talk like there’s a secret?” He nervously looked to his father. “What’s their secret?”

Lovingly, laying his son’s head down, Burns ran his hands through the blue-haired boy’s hair before brushing his fingers over his freckles. “There’s no secret, Diamond. They’re just worried about Papa.”

“What’s there to be worried about, Papa?” The little boy asked softly, sucking on his thumb for comfort.

“Nothing big, my sweet Diamond. Papa might have to get a surgery, though. Do you know what a surgery is?”

Shaking his head, Diamond gazed thoughtfully at the other.

“Well, a surgery is… kind of life making a teddy bear. They must make a hole in Papa’s body, and they take the bad stuffing out, and put new stuffing out. But, this new stuffing… might not fill Papa right, so they’re worried.”  Burns watched his son nod slowly, seeming to understand the information.

“What happens if the new stuffing doesn’t fit you right?”

Gulping, Burns brushed his fingers across the boy’s forehead. “Don’t worry about that, Diamond. It will.”

Slowly, the boy nodded and hugged his father’s arm close to his chest, falling asleep against it. When Smithers came back into the room, he sat on the side of the bed that didn’t have a sleeping child and gently took his husband’s hand in his, kissing the back of it. “It’s going to be alright, Waylon. There’s still time.”

“Is there really?” Smithers squeaked out, tears running down his cheeks. He hated seeing Burns so weak, and it made him look tiny against the hospital bed. He cleared his throat. “The doctor told me about the kidney transplant.”

Cooing softly, Burns raised his hand to Smithers’ cheek, feathering away tears. “Of course, there is, my dear. Come here.”

With a gentle nod, Smithers lay his head down on the chest of his lover, holding onto his hand desperately as he sobbed softly against his gown.

“We’ll get through this, Waylon. I know you’re scared, and I am too, but I promised Dion and I’m promising you,” Smithers glanced through lidded eyes at his love, placing kisses of comfort up and down his knuckle, “it’s going to be alright.” With slow nods, Smithers stayed in his spot until the doctor came in, and he shot up, staring at the woman.

“Well, his vitals look wonderful. We’ll be doing the surgery tomorrow and if everything goes as planned, he should be out in a few days.” She looked at the little boy asleep on the man’s arm and smiled. “I’m sorry, but it’d be best if you wait until after the surgery to come back.”

Nodding, Smithers stood up and lifted his sleeping son, cradling the tiny boy.

“Is he yours?” She motioned to Smithers and then to Burns, a soft grin still on her face. Smithers nodded, brushing hair out of the boy’s eyes as he blinked them awake.

“Daddy, is Papa gonna be okay?” The little boy asked, cowering a bit at the sight of the doctor.

“Of course, he is, Diamond. The doctors are going to take very good care of him.”

Gazing up at the doctor with awe, the little boy reached toward her, surprising the man holding him. “Let my Papa come home. We need him.”

The woman rustled the boy’s hair and grinned. “I promise he’ll come home. He’s in here to get better, after all.”

“Hos…hospitals make people better?” The little boy managed out, his father delicately squeezing him close to his chest.

“Of course, sweetie. That’s their job.”

“Oh.” The little boy said, as he was carried out of the establishment.

“Now, who wants to go see his auntie Maggie?"

Holding a hand over his mouth to act surprised, the little boy gazed happily up at his father. “Auntie Maggie is home?”

“Yup! She just returned from her tour.” Gleefully, the little boy clapped his hands at the answer as they climbed into the car. Smithers knew everything was going to be alright.

And sure enough, they were. Within a week, Burns was home and lounging in his chair, watching his son play with a tambourine that Maggie had given him. “When I grow up, I’m going to join Auntie’s band!”

The couple chuckled at the idea, smiling lovingly down at their son. Soon, the boy had sung himself to sleep, and as he slept in his bed with the dog guarding him, the two one again slipped onto the balcony, holding each other under the stars.

“See? I told you everything was going to be alright.” Burns whispered, holding his husband’s hand in his as it wrapped around him. “There’s still time, my dear.”

Snickering away a few happy tears, Smithers rested his chin against Burns’ shoulder. “I know. I should’ve listened instead of worrying myself so much.”

“You know, my love, being in there made me realize I won’t live forever, though. I think maybe it’s time I retired.” Burns whispered, leaving the other speechless for a minute.

“Are you positive?”

“Yes. I was hoping you would retire with me.” Burns turned around, reaching both of his hands up to frame the other’s face. “What do you say? We could spend our days doing whatever we wanted, and we’d both have more time to spend with Dion.”

Nodding, Smithers reached his hands up as well, resting one on each side of Burns’ face, pulling him into a deep kiss. “Of course, Monty. But, one question; who will own the business?”

Burns breathed deeply and pulled away, taking Smithers hand in his. “I want to give it to one of the Simpsons kids. I was going to give it to Lisa, but she seems happy with her job, so… how is that Bart liking his job?”

“He…likes it.” Smithers said slowly, not knowing how true that was.

“Then why the hesitation, my dear?”

“Well, he’s always scared that his little boy doesn’t look up to him. His husband inherited a business himself, so he’s just scared that his boy won’t think he’s as cool.”

Burns stifled a chuckle and leaned back into Smithers’ embrace. “Then how about we drop the family a visit?”

Smithers nodded slowly, looking at the stars in awe. “And what about little Dion?”

“We will have a few…agreements that Bart must meet, of course.” Burns said, causing a laugh to leave Smithers’ lips.

“Other than that, what kind of things will he have to do?”

“Well, when Money and Cash get older, they’ll need jobs as well…and of course, little Carly, and... when Maggie’s band days are over, she’ll need a job…and of course, he’ll have to honor the laws of Nuclear Power.”

“Of course, he will.” Smithers chuckled, kissing Burns cheek.

“And, I was thinking…” he ran a hand up and down Smithers’ arm, looking up at the sky, breathing softly. “maybe it would be nice, since the company will no longer be in our control, to settle down somewhere…smaller. Not far from home, obviously, but somewhere…quieter.”

“Monty, you’re not sounding like yourself…are you sure?” Smithers was happy of course, but he still was nervous that Burns would regret this one day.

Taking a deep breath, Burns took ahold of Smithers’ face again and guided it down so they were eye-to-eye. “My darling, I’m growing old, and I don’t want to live the rest of my days surrounded by servants.” He looked down. “And I want Dion to have a chance at a normal life. He will struggle with making friends, you know.”

Nodding slowly, Smithers smiled softly. “I know…I think you’re right, Monty. Maybe it’s time to move.”

With a gentle kiss to his love, Burns turned back to the stars, watching the world turn in silence.

The next day, they headed down to see Bart. Dion wrestled with Abraham Junior in the backyard, the family’s greyhound puppy barking at the boys playfully.

Sitting in the shade on lawn chairs, the two couples watched their children play in awe. “So, any reason you popped by?” Bart asked curiously, causing Milhouse to swat at his arm. “Don’t worry Mil, they know I’m kidding. But, they did mention something on the phone that’s been bothering me. Said something about news.”

Nodding, Burns took a long sip of his water. “Well, as you know, Smithers and I are growing in age, and we won’t be able to work at the plant any longer, which means it will need a new owner.”

Bart looked at them with a lopsided grin. “So, you came to me for…?”

Snickering, Smithers took over. “We think you should take it.”

His mouth falling open, Bart slowly mouthed out a response. “What…do you mean?”

“Well, Dion is much too young to have a company of his own, you know.” Burns said, watching with quiet glee as Bart stood up suddenly, tearing up a little.

“You’re kidding with me, right? You’ve got to be kidding with me.”

Shaking his head, Burns stood up, followed by Smithers, as the boy they had watched grow up ran over and hugged them tightly.

“You guys are the best. Oh my god, I’ve got to go brag to somebody. I’ll be right back.” The man ran inside and dialed no other than his sister. “Yeah, Lisa? You’ll never guess what I just received…”

Milhouse looked over at the older couple, that were now shaking their heads in laughter and watching the kids with pride. “You two have helped him so much. Just the other night he came home with a bust-up shoulder, and they told him he might never operate a bulldozer again. How did you two find out? He hadn’t told anybody.”

Burns and Smithers glanced at each other, a bit shocked. “We didn’t know. We just figured as fathers ourselves that he wanted to be something Abe could look up to.” Smithers said gently, watching as the man came back outside and hurried over to his son, telling him the news. Dion, confused, went over to his own parents, grabbing at their hands as they explained the change.

A week later, and it was official. They had a large ceremony, and the whole family came. When Burns, Smithers, and Dion returned home, they all started packing. Nervously, Dion looked up at his fathers. “Papa, Daddy, where are we going to go?”

“Well, there’s a house over on auntie Marge’s street, and we’re going to go live there, alright?” Smithers answered delicately, cupping his son’s face. 

“Why?”

Glancing between his husband and son, Smithers couldn’t find the words. Burns cleared his throat and took over. “Well, don’t you want to live closer to your Auntie?”

Shrugging his arms, the boy became nervous. “I guess, but…” he looked in-between the two. “no one’s dying, right?”

“No, no, no one’s dying, sweetie! What makes you think that?” Smithers mumbled, pulling his son closer to him.

“Well, Auntie Maggie’s friend told me a story about a doggy who was dying, so he ran away, where no one would think to look for him…are we running away?”

“We’re not running away, Diamond. We just want to live in a smaller house, so we’re all closer together.” Burns answered, causing the little boy’s eyes to light up.

“That makes sense. Plus, doesn’t Uncle Bart and Uncle Milhouse live on the same street?”

Grinning, Smithers nodded. “They do.”

“Then I can see cousin Abe all the time, can’t I?”

“You sure can!” Smithers chipped in, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Now, you better go get all of your favorite clothes ready!”

Cheering, the boy sped out of the room and did what he was told, leaving his parents to smile and pack their own belongings.

The Manor was still theirs, but they were ready to live out their lives primarily in town. A few weeks later, and all the papers were there. No longer was Burns a businessman, but an old man living out his days with his family.

Soon, Dion was going to a school, and before long, little Diamond was an adult and working for his uncle’s plant. Burns and Smithers stayed in town with the dog while their son went off to work every day and eventually started living in the Manor. As their twentieth anniversary came up, the two planned a party and visited with family and friends; that night, the two went bowling, and then Smithers took Burns dancing again, like their first date years ago. Once the two had returned home, they lay on the pavement of the balcony, cuddling and staring at the stars.

“Monty?”

“Yes, my dear Waylon?”

Smithers propped his head up and stared into the other’s eyes. “When we die, I hope we’re reincarnated as lovers, so I can spend the rest of my lives with you.”

With a cheeky grin, Burns leaned in. “Me too, Waylon. I want to be with you for the rest of time.” Sharing a sweet kiss, the two pulled apart and stared at the sky again.

“I don't think I believe in a god, or anything, but…sometimes I think someone up there had us in mind, ya know? Someone cares about us. How else could I end up with you?”  

Burns reached across and gripped the other’s hand in his own. “Whether there’s a god or not, Waylon, I want you to know it was you who brought us together.”

The two cuddled up in silence, their cheeks touching as the stars twinkled above them. “I’m just so glad you love me.”

Chuckling, Burns agreed. “If there is someone out there, I think we helped them more than they helped us.”

Curiously, Smithers leaned against the other. “What do you mean?”

“Well, things have gone wonderfully for us. We must mean a lot to someone.”

“I’m sure we do, Monty.” Smithers purred, slowly falling asleep against the other.

“We still have time. We’ll always have time.” Burns whispered, falling asleep with the other.


End file.
